


Always winter, never Yuletide

by Berunien



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo is blushing and useless, Domestic Fluff, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Kili is a brat, M/M, Most of this fic will be T-Rated, Mr Tumnus is adorable, Narnia! AU, Nobody Dies, Post BoFA, Shmoopy plot with shmoop sauce, Tea Parties, Thorin Is an Idiot, Thorin needs to chill around giant beavers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1710149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berunien/pseuds/Berunien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his rooms in a mountain there lived a Hobbit. Not some dusty, rocky, dark rooms, filled with the entrails of goblins and a stale smell, nor yet muddy, damp, clay rooms with nothing in them to sleep in or to entertain guests: it was his chambers in Erebor, and that means luxury.	</p><p>Erebor has been reclaimed, Bilbo and Thorin's friendship mended, and Bilbo keeps himself busy restoring the gardens and lands around Erebor.</p><p>Also, Thorin should really clear out the old wardrobe in his study, there's no knowing what Bilbo could stumble upon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is embarrassed, Kili is a menace, and Thorin has no idea what is going on.

In his rooms in a mountain there lived a Hobbit. Not some dusty, rocky, dark rooms, filled with the entrails of goblins and a stale smell, nor yet muddy, damp, clay rooms with nothing in them to sleep in or to entertain guests: it was his chambers in Erebor, and that means luxury. 

Hoards of Dwarves from the Blue Mountains and Iron Hills were settling back into Erebor, over a year since reclaiming Erebor, and the mountain was beginning to feel again like its once fruitful self. Deciding to remain within its walls, Bilbo Baggins had made himself useful by working on the gardens and lands surrounding the Lonely Mountain, all whilst fussing over a few strong-headed Dwarves who begrudgingly accepted the aid. 

It hadn’t been easy for Thorin and Bilbo to mend what had been severed on that fateful day a year previous, Bilbo’s legs dangling over the precipice as the future King of Erebor gripped his neck with both powerful hands, filled to the brim with gold lust and Bilbo’s betrayal. The slight mention of Thorin’s gold sickness still brought a sour taste to his mouth, even now, over a year later, and he had politely requested that none of the Company bring it up again.

 _If only it hadn’t taken him to be on his deathbed to beg for my forgiveness_ , lamented Bilbo, still months hence. Of course, Thorin had been too stubborn to die, and slowly yet surely, through many awkward and uncomfortable moments, they rekindled their once-close friendship; even to the point where Bilbo was given permission to lecture the King whenever he was getting unbearable to be around in one of his tempers.

These days, there would rarely pass a day when Bilbo was not graced by the presence of his King; they had fallen into a routine of tea after dinner, to mill over the events of the day. Bilbo had been made an official advisor to the throne, but quickly changed his role to more of a consulting one, since the loud and chaotic gatherings in the War Room were far too overwhelming for his Hobbit disposition. Not to mention that the meetings were held in frenzied Khuzdul, often resulting in fist fights or chairs being tossed to the other side of the room.

No, Bilbo much preferred talking calmly with Thorin over tea, where he would be informed on the status of the refurbishment and upkeep of Erebor, and how its people were handling it all. There was a calm, even domestic feel to these encounters, which always left both parties in an elevated mood. 

 

Today was turning out to be quite a lovely day, Bilbo had been down to the markets earlier to talk to some of the vendors about introducing some more vegetables to the stalls, carnivorous Dwarrows be damned. _All that darkness and lack of vegetables can’t be good for you surly dwarves_ , he regularly fought, but his lamentations often fell on deaf ears. 

_Strong-headed oafs, I’m just trying to help you retain all your teeth_ , on constant repeat in his mind as he trudged past yet another dried meat stall. Nevertheless, he had other Dwarves to order around, his meeting with the farmers looming ever closer.

As part of his role in restoring Erebor’s lands to its former glory, Bilbo was responsible for organising a small team of Dwarves to till the land and sew new crops; Dale’s farms had still not reached a scale large enough to support both cities. Getting Dwarves to agree to farm the lands was much harder than he estimated, but after a gruff talking-to from their King, a small group of volunteers came to. 

Currently fussing around his bedroom to find a suitable outfit to walk around in the damp earth in, Bilbo was in no mood to be indoors, and was eagerly anticipating being out in the sunshine. 

Living in the mountain had started to take its toll on Bilbo only a few weeks into his stay, so he had began gardening a small patch to the side of the front gates, never expecting it to turn into the large scale project it now was, now filled with flowers and vegetables alike. His ever-growing garden was secluded, sheltered from the harsh elements by shattered stone, and he tended to it most days, sighing happily in the sun.

“Come on, get yourself together you silly Hobbit, there’s work to be done.” He muttered to himself, trying to find a coat to keep out the chill of winter that was starting to fall upon the mountain. “Ugh, absolutely nothing here. This will just have to do.” 

He observed himself in the mirror, judging if his olive-green trousers, white linen shirt, embroidered brown weskit and yellow coat would withstand the chill and oncoming dirt. Apathetically sighing at his reflection, auburn curls bouncing in the movement, he turned and continued grumbling to himself. “Well, this is it I suppose.” And he exited his rooms with a huff.

After living here for over a year, he still had issues sometimes finding his way around the hive of activity that was Erebor. Luckily, he often bumped into a guard or passing kind face, and was directed on the correct path. Today, it was Ori that he ran into, somewhere near the Library.

“Oh, thank goodness it’s you Ori. I fear I am in quite a rush to the gates and I’ve got lost again. It’s the lack of sunlight, I’ve lost my bearings…” Bilbo at least had the decency to look bashful, but the beaming smile he gained from Ori transformed his small smile into a grin.

“That’s quite alright, I still forget which sections of the mountain are being re-opened. Dori had to come find me in the lower mines last week, I got lost delivering some old maps. He gave me grief for three days, the worrier he is…” He straightened his shoulders and looked up at Bilbo, aware of his ramblings. “Nevermind that, Bilbo, I’ll walk you out to the gates. I’m on my way to the markets myself, you see, so it’s on the way.”

“Please, let me at least take some of these bags from you, you look like a pack horse.” Bilbo chuckled, Ori did look rather silly with all his cloth bags hanging off both shoulders, and with a sheepish grin he handed over one shoulder’s worth.

“Thanks Bilbo, you didn’t have to, really.” He mumbled while absentmindedly fiddling with his remaining bags, staring once more at the ground at Bilbo’s feet.

“Aah, you’re rescuing me from getting a berating from my team in the fields, now stop fussing and let’s go.” He shooed Ori ahead and they fell into companionable small talk, Bilbo going on about the crops he was about introducing to Erebor, and Ori eagerly mentioning the books he had been restoring.

\---

It was a surprisingly warm day in the winter sun, Bilbo was quite relieved that he didn’t have to keep moving about to fight the chill. It was always much colder in the mountain, and made estimating ones attire for a day outdoors frequently a game of chance. He strolled onto the field only a few minutes late, and after talking with his fellow Dwarrows and assigning a few tasks, he could relax and tend to his small, personal garden.

Reaching down under a large boulder to retrieve his gardening tools from their hiding place, Bilbo sighed contentedly and strolled over to his target for the day: weeding around the carrots. He found a small rock to perch on, and began humming some old drinking song Bofur had taught him, as he satisfyingly pulled out weed by weed and placed them aside, the garden’s appearance improving by the minute.

He continued this for some time, but the important time of luncheon had approached. Suddenly hit by a wave of hunger, Bilbo dusted his hands gingerly on the sides of his hips, plucked the sandwiches he had packed from his satchel, and began wolfing down his meal eagerly, watching the workers in the fields do their tasks for the day.

A chuckle was heard from behind him, making Bilbo wheel around promptly, greeted by the impish grin of Kili.

“Shouldn’t you be off, I don’t know, _Prince-ing_ somewhere, not bothering a Hobbit while he’s eating?” He taunted, finishing the last bite of his sandwich.

“Uncle sent me away from our lecture today, _apparently_ fidgeting and tapping the table continuously is irritating _His Royal Highness_.” He emphasised sarcastically. “Should have let me practice archery at the range, not have me cooped up in his stuffy study learning about trade routes.” Kili huffed, reaching swiftly into Bilbo’s satchel and pilfering an apple, much to Bilbo’s dismay.

“And they call _me_ the Burgular. Hands of my lunch!” He swatted at his hand, which was returning for a second inspection of Bilbo’s packed treats. “Doesn’t matter if you’re a princeling, I warn you, don’t come between a Hobbit and his food if you know what’s good for you.” His warning tone not affecting the prince one iota.

“I’m hungry and avoiding Fili, come on, feed your starving royalty.” Kili pleaded, utilising his best pout. He reached down again and earned a trowel to the knuckles, with a decent _thud_. “Hey! Don’t be messing with my pretty princeling hands, these need to be fit to be kissed by dignitaries.” He dramatically wailed whilst holding his attacked hand ridiculously, as if it was mortally wounded, earning a chuckle from Bilbo.

“I’ve seen those filthy fingernails, you aren’t fooling anyone… Oh, all right you brat. But only if you tell me what you did to Fili.” Seeing Kili’s grin widen ominously, he re-evaluated his request. “Or do I not want to know?”

Sitting down and placing his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders roughly, Kili pulled the pinched apple out of his pocket and took a large bite, and with a melodramatic sigh confessed. “I may or may have not put a snake I found yesterday at the foot of Fili’s bed.” Bilbo jumped and glared at the prince, who returned it with a large, appley smile. “What!? It wasn’t poisonous or anything, just a grass snake. I think it was halfway up his leg before he realised.” He chortled, spitting apple all over Bilbo’s nice coat, which he begrudgingly wiped off as he frowned at the poor table manners of the royalty.

“Do I really have to tell you lads off again?! You’re of age, for Eru’s sake! And a prince! Don’t make me bring it up with your Uncle in one of our meetings.” He advised, trying to sound more menacing than a little Hobbit.

Kili wasn’t bothered by his weak threat, threw his apple core asunder and turned to face Bilbo, cheeky grin intact. “Yes, we all know about the important ‘ _meetings_ ’ that you have every night with Uncle, very important, with all those cakes and tea. As you batt your eyelashes at each other and ask how each others day went.” He mocked whilst winking at Bilbo, who was starting to turn a deep shade of pink from the ears down, sputtering infuriatedly at the accusation. 

“I have no idea what you are insinuating, your Uncle and I have the most appropriate manner of conversations, I assure you. Since I can’t handle reporting to him in those damned chaotic rows you Dwarves call _council meetings_ we just have it in his study.” Bilbo protested, crossing his arms as he grumbled to himself under his breath.

“Oh yes, I’m sure you _have it_.” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Bilbo for added effect, earning himself a slap on the shoulder. “Hey! Enough with the slapping and hitting, I’ll have you arrested for assaulting the Crown.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes so far back into his head he could nearly see stars. “You’re not the Crown, you fool. And enough with the teasing about Thorin, I get that enough from Bofur, honestly.” He heaved a miserable sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed upwards at the clouds. “We just have _tea_ , I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Back in Hobbiton I would have tea with guests constantly. You Dwarves just have to make an issue out of the smallest things, don’t you.” 

“Oh come on Bilbo, calm down. You’re far too proper for your own good, it was just in good humour.” Reaching over and patting Bilbo on the shoulder, he smiled. “Us Dwarves just like to bait you, you’re far too easy of a target, getting all riled up over the smallest of things.”

“No, you Dwarves just don’t keep your noses in your own business! Or food in your own mouths, for that matter. I have apple all over this good coat, if it stains it will be you that wakes up with a snake curled up next to you at night.” He wagged his finger crossly at the young prince, who just appeared even more amused. “And I’ll hope you keep your thoughts to yourself, no need to have the whole of the mountain gossiping about what they _think_ is going on… _that isn’t_ , I must add.” 

“Oh, dear Bilbo. The mountain is already gossiping away, I hear Uncle gifted you with some marvellous rooms recently, right near his quarters. Convenient for a little late night _tea_ , don’t you think.” Kili implied, brows wiggling once more.

Bilbo groaned defeatedly, putting his face in his hands. “No, no no this just won’t _do_.”

“Hey, this is what happens when you spend time frequently around someone that people talk about, everything is everyone’s business. And it’s the _King_ , everyone talks about him.”

Muffled by his hands, another sigh escapes Bilbo. “This is absolutely ridiculous. I thought I left all the gossiping back in Hobbiton with Lobelia.”

Kili pats his back comfortingly again and looks over the fields and stills his hand, noticing Thorin striding across the fields, obviously searching for an auburn mop of curls. Turning around, he squints his eyes intimidatingly at his nephew and mutters something irritably to himself and prowls closer, Kili slowly retracting his hand from the Hobbit’s back, his face still hidden in his palms.

“ _Indâd_ , how are you on this sunny afternoon?” Kili inquired as casually as possible, sweetly smiling up at Thorin, only to be met by a scowl.

“Fine enough, but what have you done to render our Hobbit so red faced that he has to hide his cheeks?” He accused, earning a squeak from Bilbo, who embarrassedly peered up and instantly avoided eye contact with the looming King.

“Nothing of importance, just updating Bilbo with the goings-on of the Kingdom, he can surely update you when you have _tea_ with him tonight.” 

At the mention of tea, Bilbo flushed an even darker shade of red and started staring rather intently at a small patch of grass growing at his feet. Thorin found this behaviour quite odd, and stared even more intently at his grinning nephew, before turning to face the restless Hobbit.

“I just came to inform you that something has arisen that I have to deal with, I won’t be able to have our meeting until later tonight, does that suit your plans for the evening?” Thorin enquired, hoping to get some words out of the Hobbit today.

Slowly, Bilbo’s eyes meet Thorin’s and the blush deepens, his embarrassment at his own behaviour increasing by the second. “That should be fine, send a guard when you’re ready and I’ll come visit with my report for the day.” He mumbles, dropping his eyes to the floor again.

Satisfied with the answer, Thorin nods and saunters off, returning to the main gates.

“Well, that went well.” Kili jests, standing to his feet slowly, cricking his back. “Keep me updated with what happens in your _late night tea meeting_ , should be enjoyable.” He starts strutting off, yelping when an apple core hits him in the back of the head.

“By Eru, you deserved that.” 

“Yeah, I know. Have fun with Uncle tonight!” And he runs off, before another apple core can find its mark.

 

\---

 

Bilbo knew that Kili was just messing around, as was his cheeky disposition, but he still couldn’t find the will to enter the mountain until sunset, now painfully aware of the gossip. _It will only get worse if you acknowledge it_ , he deliberated, ambling through the lower halls of Erebor on the way back to his rooms. 

All he needed was a good, long bath. Yes, that was all. 

Clear his head, and most importantly clear his thoughts of ridiculous notions that he and Thorin had anything happening between them that wasn’t friendship. They had sorted everything out after the whole Arkenstone ordeal and were getting along well, no need to ruin it by him overanalysing everything and moping over Thorin like a love-struck fauntling. 

He sunk into the bath, contentedly sighing, and reached for the soap and cloth, eager to wash away the fith of a day’s gardening. The day had gone rather well, the fields were prospering in the oncoming winter, and he had a solid report for Thorin prepared.

Thorin.

Aah, that whole conundrum. 

Balin had made an amused sound when he first found out about the private tea meetings with Thorin, but never hinted that it was unsavoury or against Dwarven protocol. “Damned Dwarves and their damned unreadable noises.” He muttered to himself, his relaxed mood waning.

 

\---

 

Luckily, it wasn’t improperly late at night when Bilbo heard a knock at his door, interrupting his reading of an old Elvish book about flowers in Sindarin. He tucked the book into his desk and walked over to the mirror, quickly straightened his weskit and a clean sky blue, un-appled coat. Hurriedly walking over to the door, he released a small yelp as he opened it and Thorin’s regal form was revealed. 

“I hope I didn’t alarm you, Master Baggins. Since we are in such close proximity I found sending a guard impractical.”

Bilbo composed himself and presented what he hoped was his most confident smile. “You did not, your Majesty, I simply was not expecting you till later.” He padded his pockets and turned around to look at his desk. “One moment, let me just get my report and I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

He went to his desk, not expecting that Thorin would follow him in. Nervously checking his room to ensure it was tidy enough to have royalty in his chambers, he silently praised himself for his cleanly habits; there were no rumpled undergarments in sight.

Thorin coughed awkwardly and Bilbo stilled his ruffling through the desk drawer. “So, are the rooms to your liking?” He inquired, obviously aiming to maintain an air of aloofness and not appear too eager for Bilbo’s praise. 

Bilbo smiled to himself, he forgot that Thorin had never been in his rooms before and could sense his unease. “They’re lovely, I cannot thank you enough. My last quarters were all stone and marble, don’t get me wrong, they were lovely, but these rooms are much more comfortable… I hope you didn’t go to much effort.” He glanced up at Thorin, who was squinting irritably at a piece of parchment on the floor which was in Sindarin, obviously offended by the Elvish item being in his mountain.

“Not at all, Master Baggins. These rooms needed to be refurbished anyway, I just steered the craftsmen in a more…. Hobbitish direction.” He replied, gesturing at the room generally as he walked over and leaned casually against one of the walls, arms crossed.

Bilbo found the parchment he was looking for and stood up, shoving the item in his pocket. “Well, I can’t thank you enough. Honestly.” He paused, unsure how to politely hint to a King that they probably shouldn’t be alone so long in his bedchamber, especially with all the talk circulating around Erebor.

Sensing his apprehension, Thorin walked over and opened the door to the hallway, signalling at Bilbo to follow. “No matter, after all the work you have done and are doing in Erebor, you deserve to have a space where you are relaxed and comfortable.” He walked through the door and turned, waiting for Bilbo to follow. “Well, come along Master Baggins. Time to earn your keep.” Shooting a small smile in Bilbo’s direction, he walked out into the corridor and entered his own quarters, expecting Bilbo to follow.

“Alright, keep it together Bilbo, it’s _tea time_.” He groaned to himself, shutting the doors to his room, moseying into Thorin’s study.

 

\---

 

Thorin rifled through Bilbo’s report, pausing at some impressive data and looked up at Bilbo, currently timidly sipping his tea. “Well, it seems you have rather out done yourself, Master Baggins. Erebor will be able to support itself with fresh produce, come spring.”

Bilbo blushed and his teacup wobbled lightly, the day’s embarrassment still lingering, much to his dismay. “It’s really nothing, I wouldn’t have achieved this without all the Dwarrows that you convinced into joining me. Really. And please, enough with the formalities in private, just Bilbo.”

“If you wish it, Bilbo. Only if you call me Thorin in return.” 

His blush deepened. _Damn this blushing, I’ve been useless all day_ he scolded himself, taking a sip of tea to regain his composure. “As you wish. But it will still be _your Majesty_ in public, can’t let myself be gossiped about for not paying due respect to the Crown.” He mumbled, gaining a small smile from Thorin.

“Gossiped?” Thorin raised an eyebrow curiously. “Is this to do with your agitation with Kili today?”

“Yes and no. I fear Kili is transforming into a right gossip, believing all the nonsense floating about Erebor.”

He grinned in response, fully aware of Kili’s new passion for spinning tales at his fancy. “He has recently had a more… _extravagant_ manner when retelling conversations he has heard in passing.”

“Hah, extravagant!? The other day he was near convinced that Dwalin was attempting to kill him after a sparring session in the training grounds and came howling into my studies, proclaiming that I must get you to train him in combat instead, and for me to convince you thus.” He sighed, raising his hands melodramatically. “Don’t know why he thinks I have any say in how you decide to tutor him.” He added, murmuring to himself.

Thorin chuckled, amused by all the theatrics of the small, flailing Hobbit. “He is still adjusting to his role as prince of Erebor, the dramatics will pass.”

“Honestly, Thorin. That lad is a menace. I’m assuming you heard about the snake incident in Fili’s bedchamber?” 

A bark of laughter shot out of Thorin, catching Bilbo off-guard, causing him to spill tea all down the front of his coat, causing Bilbo to swear under his breath and sigh defeatedly. “And another coat ruined, _fantastic_. If I perish from cold tomorrow due to a lack of wardrobe, I’ll haunt you Durin’s for an era.” He fussed over his coat with a handkerchief, Thorin watching him amusedly.

“Of course I heard, Fili’s bellowing could be heard throughout the royal wing, I’m surprised it didn’t awaken you… And if you need a coat you can just use one of my spares in that wardrobe.” He gestured flippantly behind him to the corner of his study, an ancient oak furnishing in the corner, adorned with all the engravings and gold detail befitting of his high status. “I’m assuming from your tone Kili ruined your coat today, take one as repayment. I have many.” 

“Oh… I’m sure I’ll be fine, you’re too kind. Just fussing, as usual, nothing a good soak can’t fix-”

“The offer still stands.” He interjected, brow furrowed. “It would not do for you to fall ill from cold, due to my house’s actions.” He declared with an air of finality.

 _Damn Durins and their obsession with repaying debts_ Bilbo mused to himself, still dabbing at the front of his now stained coat. “Fine, fine.” He babbled, not interested in the idea of using Thorin’s coat at all. More fuel for the gossip’s fire… Wearing the King’s furs, _indeed_. “If it’s cold, I’ll take one. I just need to get a tailor to make me some new coats, I fear I’m going through them rather fast with all this gardening and farming I’ve been up to of late.”

“Call Balin tomorrow, he’ll arrange the royal tailor to meet with you when you can.”

“You’re too kind, thankyou.” Bilbo stood quickly, chair legs screeching in the silent room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I fear it is getting rather late and I have an early start tomorrow, meeting with the farmers of Dale.”

Thorin stood as well, patting Bilbo on the shoulder in parting. “As do I. Dawn, I fear. Thank you for your time tonight, Bilbo, and don’t forget about my offer.”

“The pleasure was mine, till tomorrow.”

“Till tomorrow.”

\---

And it was, to Bilbo’s dismay, bone-chillingly cold the next morning. “Bother and confusticate these Dwarves.” He grumbled to himself, looking at the small pile of ruined coats in his drawer, the victim of hard labour and the line of Durin. Bilbo paced in front of the mirror, at ends with himself. It was simple, freeze or be mocked. His warmest maroon trousers, pale yellow shirt and velvet tan weskit were not able to keep away the day’s frosty temperament.

He remained in that irresolute state for some time, searching in his drawers and wardrobe for more items to magically appear, thus solving his problem. _This is absolutely ridiculous_ , he deliberated, now attempting to tame his wild head of curls. 

“That’s it.”

He stormed out of his room, giving one of his door sentry’s a right shock, and with all the confidence he could muster, knocked thrice on Thorin’s study. No reply.

“This is ridiculous, I really have to be going soon.” Bilbo complained quietly to himself, only to receive a raised eyebrow from the guard at Thorin’s door.

“He left at dawn, and left instructions to allow you entry if need be.” The guard spoke gruffly, opening the door.

Bilbo blinked at the open door abashedly, then up at the guard, all confidence exiting his form. “Oh… oh yes, right.” He stuttered, all confidence dissolved by this new discovery. Thorin really had been serious, _trust that stubborn Dwarf to leave instructions_ he mused, nodding at the guard as he entered. The loud _thud_ of the doors shutting behind him made him jump comically, causing Bilbo laugh huffily at himself.

It was eerily silent in the study alone, and Bilbo was eager to be out of there as soon as possible. He felt like he wasn’t supposed to be there, and unintentionally started tiptoeing towards the wardrobe, slipping back to his burglar ways. The slow groan of the wardrobe door opening had Bilbo flinch and scan the room, still on edge. Satisfied that he hadn’t disturbed anyone, he reached in and started going through the items on offer.

They were all ridiculous.

“No wonder why this wardrobe is unused, and in his study not his bedchamber, none of these old coats have probably been used for centuries.” He grumbled to himself, the smell of dust and mothballs making him sneeze repeatedly. 

After going through most of the ancient, pelt adorned coats on offer, he settled for a small white fur-collared coat, made predominantly from thick wool. He turned to the mirror by the wall, and stifled a loud laugh in his hand. He looked absolutely preposterous. 

_I appear to be transformed into a pudgy owl_. 

Turning in the mirror to observe his outrageous silhouette, the fur collar mimicking the fluffy feathers of an owlet. “This really will not do, I’m sure there is one less absurd coat in this accursed wardrobe.” He grasped the edges of the frame, peering in, to find another layer of furs behind the first row. “Fantastic.”

He reached forward and started rustling through the furred items, but tripped on the long hem of his outlandish coat and fell forward, yelping embarrassedly loud, eyes closed, braced for impact.

But there was no rap of knuckles against the wardrobe floor, or a collision of Hobbit face to wooden wall. Something soft had cushioned his fall.

He squinted his eyes open slowly, wondering why he was starting to feel even colder than before, and gasped at what he saw in his hands.

White. 

Handfuls of startlingly white, fresh snow. 

He looked up slowly, dreading what scene would unfold, his hands now turning blue in the snow.

“A lamppost. How odd.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies!
> 
> So, this is my first ever fic, I hope I haven't broken any secret fic rules or twatted up this entire chapter.
> 
> Comments are most welcome!  
> This fic is currently un-beta'd, so I maybe have missed something...
> 
> Cute tea parties ahead!  
> Berunien


	2. An unexpected tea party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has tea with a lovely faun, who has only the best in mind for Master Bilbo...

Bilbo brushed himself down once he had stood up, the cold and damp starting to seep through the knees in his poor trousers. “Right. So this is happening right now.” He looked around, noting the rather un-Ereborean fir and pine trees, and sun hidden behind thick clouds.

Still aware of his ridiculous appearance, he turned around and replaced his _owlet chic_ look for a much more appropriate floor-length, grey wolf pelt coat. _Don’t want to get mistaken for an oversized owlet and find myself kidnapped by an Eagle of Manwe_ he mused to himself, pleased with his new, rather un-owlish choice.

“Alright, let’s see where I’ve ended up.” Bilbo muttered to himself, trying to get his wits about him. He cautiously tiptoed forward, crouching slightly, suddenly very aware that he was unarmed, Sting remaining back in his study. “I have a strong suspicion this is not some snow room in Erebor that Thorin has tucked away.” He chuckled to himself, imagining a moody Thorin, sneaking off to his snow room to sit and brood about elves huffily.

His soft chuckle alerted something in the periphery; at the crack of a twig and ruffling of some leaves at the edge of the clearing, Bilbo froze. Crouching slowly in an attempt to blend in with the white padding underfoot, he slowly turned his head to attempt to gain a lock on whatever he had disturbed.

Motionless and unmoving in an open clearing, he had no idea what to do. Frantically running through scenarios in is head, _flight_ deemed the most suitable selection, and he was far too vulnerable in this position. Bilbo took one noiseless step forward and stilled, scrunching his eyelids closed and furrowing his brow, awaiting a reaction to his movement. Still nothing.

Taking a fortifying breath, the Hobbit took another step and stood unmoving once more, eyes still closed. Peeking reluctantly out of one eye and turning his head cautiously, the only view that displayed itself was of a silent, whitewashed forest. Assuming that the disturbance was just his imagination, he straightened his back and took another few steps, assured by the quiet that he was alone.

His first alert was the sound of hooves, then branches being disturbed loudly right behind him. Knowing full well that he did not have time to escape the beast that had him targeted, he froze once more and kneeled in the snow, hoping that he would just appear to be a small grey and white mound amongst the snow, or a dozing wolf pup.

He felt strong, large arms circling his shoulders from behind and released a high-pitched shriek, stilling the arms that had enclosed around him, that were in the middle of wrapping a red woollen scarf around his neck.

“Be still, young fauntling, calm yourself. I’m just here to help.”

Bilbo spun around in his captors grasp and forced himself to his feet, glaring incredulously at his captor, its arms still remaining clasped on his shoulders, the scarf now draped around the Hobbit’s neck.

“Young fauntling! Really. I am past fifty years and a Baggins of Bag End.” He swatted the hands off his shoulders, his glare at the strange creature increasing. “I don’t know who or _what_ you are, but you are much mistaken, I am no _fauntling_.”

The odd creature stood dumbfounded, mouth hanging open, hands stilled by its sides. Bilbo stared down the creature, only then taking in the unusual picture that was displayed before him. The creature had goats legs. _Goats legs!_ It also had a hairy uncovered chest, and sported the strangest ears Bilbo had ever seen. He noticed the creature observing him in return, both of them sizing each other up, their curiosity blazingly apparent.

“No, you really are not any fauntling I have ever seen. My apologies, I mistook your small frame and wild curls for a youngling.” The creature wiped the stupefied look from his face, replacing it with a warm smile. “Please excuse my poor manners, I-I fear I often forget myself and offend others easily.” He stammered, now bashful.

Bilbo continued staring down the creature, its rudeness still not forgotten. “ _Youngling_ , indeed.” He sighed, feeling his displeasure begin to slip away at the genuine apology. “Nevermind, you haven’t been the first to mistake me for a youngling, and I fear not the last… If you don’t mind me asking, what _are_ you?”

The creature looked slightly taken aback, as if the question was as ridiculously obvious as if he were asking ‘Why is the sky blue?’

“Well, I-I, ah.” He stuttered, still confused. “I’m a faun. And what about you? You must be some kind of beardless Dwarf?”

Bilbo released a loud bark of laughter and took him off guard, making the faun drop his brown paper wrapped parcels in the fresh snow. He reached down and helped the shaken faun, giant scarf trailing in the snow, and smiled up at him as he nervously retrieved the snowy bundles. He reminded Bilbo slightly of Ori, all good manners, stuttering and bashfulness.

“Goodness, don’t go around mentioning beardlessness around dwarves if you wish to keep your head. Nasty business, mentioning something that is so private to them, why, I nearly lost an eye to Kili when I asked why Thorin’s beard was so short when I first met him… And no, good fellow, I’m no Dwarf. I’m a Hobbit.” He paused, fluffing himself up. “And actually, I am the tallest of the Baggins, for many generations.”

“What, so what you mean to say, is that you keep dwarves as… companions?” The faun queried nervously, obviously uncomfortable with the revelation.

“Why yes, why ever should I not? Those Durins are not as strong-headed and aloof as they seem, the rest are sometimes rather stubborn, but I think their heart is in the right place.”

“Wait, so what you are saying is that you are acquainted with the line of Durin?”

Bilbo was partially taken aback by the odd question, unsure why the name had reached the corners of wherever he was. “Why yes, of course. In fact I have tea with Thorin each night and sometimes have to bat around the ears of those rascals he has for nephews.”

The faun looked around nervously, as if suddenly aware of eavesdroppers or spies. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was searching for a coat in Thorin’s study room-”

“Stud Oom? Is that in Narnia?”

“Narnia?” Bilbo probed, looking curiously about at the forest surrounding him. “What’s that?”

The faun chuckled, finding the Hobbit’s naivety amusing. “Well, Master Hobbit, you’re in it. Everything from the lamppost-” He used his umbrella to point upwards, for effect. “…all the way to castle Care Paravel on the Eastern Ocean.” He pointed due east, taking a few steps forward, then turned to face the perplexed Hobbit. “Every stick and stone you see, every icicle, is Narnia.”

Bilbo turned to see the snowy vista revealed to him by the faun, feeling rather small compared to the vast white lands set before him. “This is an awfully big wardrobe.” He muttered to himself, staring over the valley.

“War Drobe?” The faun chuckled, shaking his head amusedly, then composed himself and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tumnus.”

“Pleased to meet you Master Tumnus. Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” He bowed gracefully, earning a small chuckle from the faun. Still bowed, he looked up questioningly at the creature. “Oh, you’re meant to bow back.”

Tumnus looked down at him, utterly perplexed. “Why?”

Bilbo straightened, slightly taken aback by the notion. “I… I don’t know. Respectable Dwarves do it when they greet each other back in Erebor. Force of habit I suppose.”

The faun laughed and awkwardly returned a small bow, receiving a warm smile from Bilbo. ‘Well, Bilbo Baggins of the shining city of _War Drobe_ , in the wondrous land of _Stud Oom_ , how about we forget all the business with fauntlings and you come and have tea with me?”

“Well, thank you very much for the kind offer, but I…” He paused, remembering the appointment with the farming Dwarrows that he was now rudely late for. “…I should probably be getting back, I fear I have a meeting that I am quite late for-”

“It’s just around the corner…” The eager faun interrupted. “And there’s a warm fire, sweet cakes, toast and tea. And perhaps, we could even break into some fortified wine I have tucked away.” He added, raising his brows, attempting to tempt his new companion.

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on. It’s not every day that I get to make a new friend.”

The earnestness and enthusiasm won the Hobbit over, who let out a conquered sigh. “My mother didn’t raise me to refuse good food and decent company, I suppose I could visit for a little while… A little fortified wine would suit this chilly day.”

Tumnus smiled down at the Hobbit and opened his umbrella invitingly, gesturing him over to share in the shelter from the snow. “Not to worry, I have a barrel that I have been awaiting the right time to open.”

Bilbo waddled over, the inches of snow inhibiting his strides, making him appear like a fuzzy grey penguin. The faun pointedly didn’t mention it, noticing the Hobbit grumbling under his breath about looking ridiculous.

“Come along, Master Bilbo. I have a warm hearth awaiting our arrival.”

They began walking in casual small talk, the faun pointing out all interesting landmarks and boasting about his baking and smial that were awaiting their presence. Bilbo complimented where acceptable, and found himself warming up to the shy faun, rather eager to remove his bulky furs and settle with some tea in front of a fire.

 

\---

 

The new companions rounded a corner, and Bilbo gasped breathlessly as he was greeted with the sight of the faun’s front door. It was oval shaped, dark wood, hewn into the cliff face, and decorated with ornamental metalwork. It was all very Hobbit-like, and he found himself instantly home sick. A sad smile appeared on his countenance, he stopped and stared upwards at the hauntingly familiar scene, the heaped white snow mimicking the rolling grass hills of Hobbiton.

The faun turned around, unsure why the Hobbit had stopped in his wake. “Everything alright, Bilbo?” He enquired softly, Bilbo appearing as if he had seen a ghost.

Bilbo shook his head and composed himself, embarrassed at how easily he was overcome by his nostalgia. “Yes-yes. Sorry. Don’t mind me.” He fussed with his coat and drew it closer around himself and continued walking, melancholy still evident in his posture. “ _Sentimental Hobbit_.” He mumbled under his breath.

Tumnus continued on and opened the heavy door, gesturing for him to follow. “Let’s get you out of that coat and in front of the fire, shall we?”

Bilbo hesitantly entered and emitted a sharp gasp, the room before him was cosy, warm and homely, everything a Hobbit hole should be. He turned around and beamed at Tumnus, who was stamping his hooves comically, dusting all remaining snow away. He returned his smile and led him forward, towards one of two large armchairs in front of the fire.

Bilbo sat and looked around, awe struck by the homeliness of the space. “This place is utterly lovely, Mr Tumnus. You should be proud to have such a comfortable home.”

Tumnus blushed and walked over to the kitchen, busying himself with tea and cakes as not to show his blush. “It was my fathers, he made it for my mother when they first started courting. It passed down to me, so I try to maintain it as well as I can.” He replied from the kitchen, kettle and plates clanging in the background.

“Bag End was made by my father for my mother, also. It was his engagement present, he spent over a year on it, ensuring it was perfect for her.” Tumnus walked over and handed him some tea, then trotted back to the kitchen to collect some cakes. “Thankyou, this is marvellous.” He took a sip, instantly warmed by its contents.

Tumnus walked over, plates in hand and placed them on the small table between the chairs. There was a lavish selection, from scones and fruity cakes to small sandwiches and cheese. The image was so familiar, and warmed Bilbo instantly. “My pleasure, I hope that you like it.”

Bilbo reached over and took a jam-covered scone, groaning loudly in contentment. Embarrassed at his uncivilised display, he quickly straightened his shoulders and composed himself, very self-aware. “Oh I’m so sorry, how rude of me… I just haven’t had a proper scone in over two years. Those Dwarves can do a marvellous roast, but they do not understand baking at all.” He finished his scone and licked his fingers, not wasting one crumb.

The faun was incredibly pleased, positively beaming over at his new guest. “Do not worry yourself, I am just glad that my baking is being appreciated. It has been a while since my last guest.” He took a sip of tea, quiet for a moment, noticeably trying to word a question in his mind. “…If you don’t mind me asking, you speak as if you have not been home for a long time. I was wondering if this was true?”

Bilbo stilled, mid-bite into his second scone. He put his scone on his plate and looked up at Tumnus, the sad smile returning. “Yes, it has been rather a long time since I was home. But for a good reason, I had a job to do and was helping my friends reclaim their home…but once it was over there was so much more work to be done...” He sighed and took a sip of tea, staring into the fire. “Don’t get me wrong, I am happy in my new rooms in Erebor, I do a lot of gardening and I have many friends, but I do miss home sometimes.”

Tumnus smiled over at him, offering a small plate of assorted cakes. “Well, if my baking can bring a little familiarity of home to your day, then take as much as you need.”

His sad smile replaced with a genuine one, Bilbo reached over and took a cake, exhaling happily after the first bite. “Thank you, really. And please, don’t think me miserable or lonely. On the contrary, I rarely get a minute to myself with those two Durin scoundrels running amok.”

“No, I do not pity you, Bilbo. I just understand the comfort that comes with the familiar. And speaking of comfort, take more cakes, please! I fear I found myself rather bored last week and cooked far too many for one faun. You’ll be saving me from growing so large that I won’t be able to leave my home.” He giggled good naturedly, gesturing eagerly for Bilbo to take more food.

Bilbo filled his plate with more cakes and sandwiches, Tumnus offered more tea, and the conversation became more frivolous and stories were exchanged, a bond slowly forming between the two.

In the middle of one amusing retelling of another complex prank of Kili’s (that this time involved a rather aggressive raven and a bucket of flour), Tumnus was grabbing at his sides and laughing so hard that he had to gesture at Bilbo to stop, all air pushed out of his lungs. “Please… _Please_ … I cannot breathe!” He wailed between sharp intakes of breath, amusing Bilbo to no end.

The faun’s flushed face was all too comical for Bilbo, who also had to take long breaths to settle himself, and regain his composure. “As you wish, Master Tumnus.” He grinned at him, filling Tumnus’s teacup and then his. “Here, get that into you. And maybe breathe a little.” He finished, chuckling some more.

“I don’t know how you manage with those two, they sound untameable!” He managed between longer breaths, the redness slowly draining from his cheeks.

Bilbo laughed fondly, remembering Fili’s furious expression as he rapped his knuckles indignantly on Bilbo’s doors, hair askew, flour everywhere. “Oh, they’re just cheeky lads. One warning look from their Uncle and they’re on their best behaviour.”

Tumnus sighed happily, all breath returned to his frame. “Such a good story surely deserves a reward. I think it may be time to bring out the fortified wine.” He tapped the side of his nose eagerly, walking over to the pantry to retrieve said wine.

“My dear Tumnus, you really do know how to entertain.” Tumnus returned and offered him a small glass of deep maroon liquid, in a dainty crystal glass. He took a sip and closed his eyes smiling, the warmth spreading down his chest. “Why, I haven’t had fortified wine so excellent since my last Yuletide feast.”

Tumnus took a sip, this time it was him who reciprocated with a sad smile. “I fear, I don’t remember what my last Yuletide feast tasted like… why, it’s been over a hundred years since our last Yuletide celebrations.”

Bilbo coughed slightly on his sip of fortified, banging one fist on his chest to settle his breathing. “What!? No enormous feasts, and no presents for over a hundred years! But it’s winter now, surely Yuletide is not far?” He looked up at the fawn, utterly perplexed.

“No, not here. Always winter, never Yuletide.” He put his glass down, rubbing his face exhaustedly. “It’s been a long winter… But you would have loved Narnia in summer.” He smiled fondly, nostalgia setting in. “We fauns danced with the dryads all night, and you know, we never got tired. The music, oh such music.” He looked over at Bilbo apprehensively. “Would… would you like to hear some now?”

“Oh yes, please.” The Hobbit requested, and gladly accepted a refill of liquor from Tumnus.

Tumnus walked over and retrieved a strange wooden dual-ended instrument. “Now, are you familiar with any Narnian lullabies?” He sat back down, inspecting his hand positioning on the instrument.

“No, sorry…” Bilbo admitted timidly, taking another sip.

“Well, well that’s good… because this probably won’t sound like one.”

The faun began to play a low, beautiful melody that instantly had Bilbo feeling himself relax. Sinking deeper into his chair, the Hobbit turned and stared into the fire, the whole experience utterly peaceful. He took a few more sips of his drink, the fire now playing tricks with his sight, twisting and turning into shapes that had Bilbo seeing figures and silhouettes dancing in a circle, spurred on by Tumnus’s deep tune.

The flames were entrancing Bilbo, now unaware of Tumnus eyeing him intensely, observing his ever-growing relaxed state. The Hobbit felt himself lulled into a deep sleep, and tried to fight it to no avail. His glass fell on the carpeted floor and shattered, his hand now lifeless in slumber.

Tumnus continued playing, then turned to observe the fire himself. Without warning, the dancing figures transformed into the giant head of a lion, roaring deafeningly, causing Tumnus to jump and clasp his instrument to his chest; the force of the lion’s roar extinguishing all light in the house.

The room was bathed in darkness, yet Bilbo continued his deep slumber.

 

\---

 

Bilbo groaned and shifted uncomfortably, aware of the crick in his neck from sleeping in a chair. He startled and shot up, alert in the darkness, confused by the unfamiliar environment, his head still dulled by sleep. He padded over to the door, searching for his host.

“Oh, I should go, those damn Dwarves will be waiting for me.” He mumbled to himself, head groggy from sleep and too much wine.

“It’s too late for that now.” The faun admitted sullenly from the corner of the room, catching Bilbo off guard and making him turn around swiftly, on edge. “I’m such a terrible faun…”

Bilbo carefully strode over to the source of the voice, his senses heightening in the darkness. His eyes finally met the faun’s, who was lying on the stairs rather pathetically, looking utterly distraught. “Oh no, you’re the nicest faun that I have ever met.” Bilbo admitted, kneeling beside his slumped host.

“Then I’m afraid you have had a very poor sampling.” He whimpered, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“No. No, you can’t have done anything that bad.” He fussed, handing his handkerchief over to the troubled faun.

He wiped his tears, sniffling quietly “It’s not something that I have done, Bilbo Baggins…” Tumnus looked up slowly, meeting Bilbo’s eye. “It’s something I am _doing_.”

Bilbo stood and took a step back, eyes wide in fear. “What are you doing?”

The faun stood up slowly, grasping the rail, and stared him dead in the eye.

 

“ _I’m kidnaping you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Lovelies!
> 
> So, yes, I know I did change around the Yuletide lore a bit for plot, but since Tolkein never really goes in detail about the Yuletide festivities (only that they last for 6 days, the most important days being Yule 1 and Yule 2, in the centre of that week) I kind of played around with it a bit... whoops.
> 
> And if you are waiting for some _actual_ interactions between Thorin and Bilbo that aren't awkward and where Bilbo is being useless, never fear, it's on its way.
> 
> Grumpy Thorin times ahead!  
> Berunien


	3. The Hobbit reappears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erebor is in an uproar, and Bilbo has no idea what he has done wrong.

Bilbo took another step back, unsure if he heard correctly. “What… kidnaping? Whatever do you mean?”

“It’s the White Witch, she’s the one who makes it always winter, always cold. She gave orders… If any of us find Durinsfolk wandering in the woods, we’re supposed to turn them over to her.”

“But, but I’m not a Durin… I’m a Baggins!” Bilbo spluttered, wishing desperately he had Sting there, in case the faun became too desperate and resorted to violence.

“No, but you live with them, you dine with them, and you can lure them here…” Tumnus steadied himself and took a step forward, looking increasingly miserable. “And I have no choice… the White Witch has no mercy for those that defy her.”

Bilbo grabbed the closest item he could reach; a frying pan would have to do. “I, I thought you were my friend… and you always have a choice.”

Tumnus looked him in the eye. “Well I suppose then, Bilbo Baggins, it’s time for us to run.”

 

\---

 

Tumnus grabbed Bilbo by the collar of his coat and steered him around another sharp turn, the darkness of the night inhibiting his sight, snow spraying in their wake. “Now, she may already know you’re here… The woods are full of her spies.” They sprinted around another corner, Bilbo losing his footing for a moment, saved by the faun’s grip. “Even some of the trees are on her side.”

As soon as they reached the lamppost they halted. Bilbo, grateful for the rest, leant on it for support, catching his breath.

“Can you find your way back from here?” Tumnus whispered urgently, continuing his nervous and agitated movements, checking the clearing to ensure they were safe.

“Yes, I believe so.” Bilbo staggered, between his sharp inhales of air.

“Alright.” The faun stopped his restlessness and faced Bilbo, placing his hands on the shorter Hobbit’s shoulders.

“Will you be alright?” He asked genuinely, and looked up at the distressed faun. He saw such pure fear in those eyes, so started unwrapping the large scarf from his neck and began winding it around the faun, trying to soothe him as he could. At this small act of kindness, Tumnus started laughing nervously and began tearing up. “Hey, hey, hey…” He cooed, using a segment of scarf to wipe away a falling tear.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… here-” Tumnus reached out to offer the borrowed handkerchief back to Bilbo, who just smiled and shook his head slowly, putting the square of fabric back in his hand and towards the faun’s chest.

“You need it more than I do.”

The faun dishearteningly chuckled, exhaling heavily. “No matter what happens, Bilbo Baggins, I am glad to have met you. You’ve made me feel warmer than I’ve felt in a hundred years.” He stepped backwards, out of Bilbo’s reach, and his face hardened. “Now go. Go!” 

Bilbo took one last look at Tumnus and ran towards the wardrobe, targeting the familiar brown and grey furs cramped between two pine trees. He ambled up into the wooden interior, pulled of his coat and dropped it on the wardrobe floor, and fell face forwards, hitting his chin on the carpeted floors of Thorin’s study. Bilbo lay there for a few minutes, deconstructing in his head what had just happened, gathering his wits. 

“R-Right, so, Fauns… and Witches. Right.” He stammered to himself, not having any idea how to get his head around his little adventure. 

Shakily he stood up, closed the heavy wooden door, and groaned loudly with his head pressed against the door.

He spun around and sneaked back into his own chambers, surprisingly effortlessly, as no guards were stationed at either door. He pushed that fact to the back of his mind, there were more important things to be worrying about right now, and he had completely forgotten about his meeting.

 

\---

 

After pacing his study for nearly half an hour, babbling manically to himself, he had had quite enough. “This is not how a proper Hobbit behaves, no. Time to pull myself together, I think some tea is in order.” He stood up straight and stormed out of his rooms, looking for a guard or servant walking by, to enquire about having some tea sent to his rooms. There was still none in sight, the royal wing was completely uninhabited. “Alright then, guess I’ll just go visit Bombur in the kitchens and make some myself.”

Still feeling rather shaken and not in the mood for any nosy Dwarves, he opted for the quiet route to the kitchens, taking the winding servants’ path instead of the main walkways. Something in the mountain did not feel right, the lack of guards earlier still playing on his mind.

He entered the kitchens from the back door, noticing instantly that the space was also rather empty, only a few Dwarves were tending to their stoves or food preparation. He spied the round silhouette of Bombur and strode forth, accidentally sneaking up on the poor fellow, who turned around and yelped loudly when met unexpectedly with Bilbo standing close. He shook his head as if he was not sure that Bilbo was actually there, then once satisfied that he was not a ghost or vision, cackled happily and pulled the small Hobbit into a crushing hug.

“BILBO! Oh, laddie, we were so worried!! Wherever were you all this time!?” He released the Hobbit slowly, who had to take a few steps back and grab the kitchen bench to steel himself, slightly winded from the embrace.

“I was just, you know, around.” He gestured aloofly in a circular motion above his head, hoping it would be enough. A crash sounded from behind and Bofur ran in, pots and pans scattering loudly in his wake. At seeing Bilbo he bounded forward and grabbed the Hobbit, giving him his second crushingly strong hug of the day.

“Bilbo! Where in Mahal’s name did you run off to? Thorin has everyone capable in Erebor searching for you, all through the mountain and around the fields! We were afraid you had fallen in the mines or been kidnapped, or worse!” He was the most flustered Bilbo had seen him in for a long time, and it saddened him to see his friends so agitated.

“I’m sorry that you were all so worried, but I assure you, I am fine… I just was distracted searching the old unused balconies, I’m going to turn them into gardens, see, and I just well… lost track of time.” The flabbergasted stare he got in return from the two was unnerving. “What… What did I miss?" 

Bofur looked at his brother, then back at Bilbo. “Laddie, we searched _everywhere_ for you. There were _tens and tens_ of Dwarves looking for you, especially in the mines and old unused areas of Erebor… Are you sure you were just at the balconies?”

Bilbo nodded as enthusiastically as he could muster. “Of course, Bofur. They probably just overlooked me because I was sitting and sketching in a corner… I was so immersed by my plans I must have missed their calls.”

Bofur looked at him intently, squinting slightly. “Are you sure, Bilbo? Because if there is something going on, you know you can tell us.”

“Of course, of course. Like I said, I was just… preoccupied.”

Still not fully convinced, he nodded and patted him solidly on the shoulder. “Well, no matter. We’re just glad to have you back, Bilbo. You had us worried, for those two hours-”

“ _Two hours?!_ ” He interrupted, staring incredulously at the smiling Dwarf.

“Aye, lad.” He scoffed, grinning impishly at the Hobbit. “Well, you really must have been keen on those drawings if you let time slip away from you like that.”

Bilbo shook his head, dumbfounded.

_I had been there all day, and late into the night. This cannot be…_

Noticing his astonishment, he asked again, softer this time. “Are you really sure everything is alright, Bilbo?”

He looked up into the Dwarf’s warm, brown eyes, and sighed. There was no way he’d believe the truth. “Yes, yes everything is fine. Thank you. 

Bofur retracted slightly, and gave up on questioning the adamant Hobbit. “Alright then.” He clapped his hands together and grinned eagerly at them both. “So, let’s go find the King and tell him his Hobbit has been found in one piece.”

Bilbo groaned, fully aware of the interrogations that were about to take place. “Can I please at least have some tea first?”

“No time for that, laddie.” Bombur chuckled, now steering the Hobbit out of his kitchens. “Thorin’s waiting for ye.”

“Fantastic, what can possibly go wrong.”

 

\---

 

Thorin was pacing in the Throne Room, snarling at anyone who interrupted his brooding with news that did not relate to finding his Hobbit. Balin had kept a safe distance all morning, fully aware that the King was close to biting someone’s head off. Nevertheless, he had duties to perform and Balin was done watching the moody spectacle. 

Cautiously walking up to the King, he steeled himself and tapped Thorin on the shoulder. 

“WHAT!?”

Unblinking, Balin implemented his best smile, and gave a little bow, ignoring the glare being directed his way. “My King, I understand that the matter of Bilbo’s safekeeping is most important to you, but may I suggest-” 

“No, Balin. I will not leave this Throne Room until he returns.” He interrupted melodramatically, turning around slowly. “He never misses an appointment with his workers… something is amiss.” Thorin began to pace the room menacingly once more, but Balin remained steadfast.

“Thorin, the Hobbit has been through much worse that this, I am sure that he is safe.”

“Balin, if I wished for your counsel I would _ask for it_.” He snapped in return, signalling agitatedly for Balin to leave.

Balin chuckled and shook his head, knowing full well that what the King needed was indeed some counsel. “My King, I know that you have started to…” He paused, unsure how much truthfulness Thorin was in the mood for. “Well, you have started to become close again with Bilbo, what with your meetings each night, and I know you care for him.” Thorin looked up tersely, shooting a warning look at Balin. “Don’t try to convince me you don’t, I’ve been your friend for far too long for you to get away with lying to me… Bilbo is unharmed, Thorin. I’m sure of it.”

Thorin exhaled heavily and stormed over to slump down on the Throne. “You did send out all search parties, yes?”

“All guards that we could spare, my King.”

Thorin rubbed the balls of his palms tiredly against his eyes, seeing stars. He looked over sullenly at Balin, allowing a small moment of weakness to peek through his steely facade. “This is not like him, to disappear without a word.”

Balin smiled assuredly up at his King, nodding confidently. “Aye, but if he did, I am sure it was for the right reasons.”

“What reason could spur him hence, no note left behind?”

“That, I do not know. All I know is that he will tell you when he is ready.”

Thorin slumped deeper into his Throne, kingly posture be damned. “Mahal knows that I could not persuade that foolish Hobbit to speak when he does not wish to.”

Balin chuckled again, and ambled over to place a tentative hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “He has only been gone for two hours, my King. Do not lose hope yet.”

Thorin grumbled in response, staring unblinkingly ahead at the main gates. “Reckless Hobbit.” He muttered under his breath.

  

\---

 

Bilbo had never been so fussed over in his entire life, not even at his coming of age party. Virtually every dwarf he passed on the way to the Throne Room was patting him on the back, cheering him on, or beaming at him. “Why is everyone making such a fuss?” The confused Hobbit whispered up to Bofur, gaining a cheeky grin in response.

“I told you, Thorin near turned the mountain upside down to find ye.”

Bilbo slumped his shoulders, the embarrassment and self-consciousness of yesterday coming back in full swing. “But, don’t they have better things to be worrying about now? I’m just one Hobbit?”

Bofur clapped him on the back heavily, a yelp exiting the Hobbit. “You’re more than _just one Hobbit_ , Bilbo. You’re one of the Company that reclaimed Erebor, spoke to the dragon Smaug, and are one of the advisors to the Throne. Not to mention close friend of the King.”

Bilbo groaned, wishing the ground would open and swallow him up. “This is all so ridiculous, I just disappeared for a few hours, that’s all. Can’t anyone get some quiet around here?" 

“Not if you’re as important as you are, Bilbo Baggins. Especially when you disappear without warning.”

Bilbo fiddled The Ring in his pocket, all too tempted to _actually_ disappear without warning. “You have no idea how good disappearing sounds, right now.” He protested, Bofur humming amusedly to his right. 

“Don’t be too eager to complain about all the ruckus, Master Hobbit. At least you have people who care and worry about you.”

“Yes, well, I would prefer all this worrying and caring to be done in private, not so in the public eye.” He glanced up at Bofur. “You of course know about all the ridiculous rumours going around.”

Bofur blushed slightly, appearing abashed. “Aye. It’s none of my business, mind, what happens between the King and yourself behind closed doors.”

“Really, Bofur?! You can’t also be one of those gossiping hens who believes everything they hear?”

“I don’t mean any harm, lad. The whole Company is alright with whatever is going on between you two.” He winked, impish grin beaming.

This was really getting out of hand, now _The Company_ was talking about Thorin and himself. This had to stop. “I can assure you, Master Bofur, that the only thing going on between Thorin and I is the sharing of tea and exchanging of words, nothing…” He blushed, lowering his eyes. “Nothing… important going on. Just friendship.”

Bofur observed him carefully, a twinkle in his eye. “Aye, lad. Friendship is what I mean, what in Mahal’s name did you think I was meaning, that’s got you all uptight?” He elbowed Bilbo cheekily, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“Oh, curse you Dwarves and your impropriety, this not something to jest about. The _entire mountain_ is talking about us, even some speaking of a courtship blossoming! _Courtship!_ Absolutely preposterous.”

“Pay them no mind, lad, they just have nothing to talk about. Come winter and they will all be moaning about the cold, and will forget about your little romance soon enough.”

“But there is no ‘ _little romance_!’” The hobbit moaned exasperatedly, hands in the air. “You Dwarves really put Hobbits to shame when it comes to talking about what does not concern you.” 

Bofur laughed cheerfully, clapping the Hobbit on the back once more. “Like I said, just pay them no mind. I’m sure they’re just jealous.”

“Yes, jealous of talking late into the night over tea, about _gardening_ and _crops_ , how dazzlingly alluring.” He rolled his eyes, thoroughly done with the conversation. 

“Anyone would be jealous of spending time with the King. Count yourself lucky, lad.”

 

\---

 

After attempting to stir the King to continue on with his duties, to no avail, Balin feared he had to unleash his secret weapon: Princess Dis.

“Princess, may I have a moment?” Balin inquired politely, knocking twice on her open study door. She wheeled around in her chair, smiling warmly. Princess Dis was one of the fairest Dwarrodames in Erebor, blessed with thick, dark hair that flowed to her waist, a full, delicately braided beard, and a strong countenance and build. The Durin resemblance was strong, if she was in her battle gear she would often get mistaken for her brother, much to her glee as a young, foolhardy Dwarrowdame; in her youth she often snuck out to imitate Thorin and cause an uproar.

“Of course, dearest Balin. I always have a moment for my _favourite advisor_.” She replied cheekily, eyes twinkling. “I have heard some rumours circulating about a certain missing Hobbit, I’m sure this lovely visit is in regards to this?”

Balin smiled warmly, seeing the mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You flatter me, Princess.” He stooped and displayed his most graceful bow. “I fear His Majesty is in a rather… _troubled_ state, it appears Master Baggins has been missing for two hours, without any mention where he has gone.”

She stood up and paced towards him, grinning. “Well, I suppose then my brother will be needing some guidance, in this _trying time_ , won’t he?”

Balin chuckled, fully aware of the downpour of attitude that was about to rain down on his King. “Agreed, your Highness. Please, follow me.”

 

\---

 

Thorin had been staring daggers into the opposite wall, unmoving, for the past thirty minutes. Balin had walked off some time ago, muttering under his breath something about ‘ _those two useless fools just need to sort it out and get it over with’_. 

Thorin paid no mind, assuming it was not about him, and desired no lecture from Balin this day. No, Thorin was in a right gloomy mood, he was.

First, Bilbo had been odd all yesterday, blushing all the time and avoiding eye contact. It made no sense to him, the Hobbit was perfectly fine the day previous, Thorin was sure he had not done anything to upset his disposition.

Then, when he went to collect Bilbo for their meeting he had acted even stranger, noticeably uncomfortable being alone in his bedchamber with Thorin there. He knew it was the first time they had stepped in there alone, but since they had spent numerous evenings alone in his own private rooms, saw no difference. “Fussy Hobbits and their unclear ways” he had mumbled to himself as he walked into his rooms that night, awaiting Bilbo to follow.

And finally, the unnecessary issue with Thorin lending him one of his furs. _It was just a coat._ Bilbo had acted like he was being offered all the gold in Erebor, spluttering and making an issue out of the simple request. Thorin had absolutely no idea what he had done wrong, ending the night with a curt ‘Till tomorrow’, mirroring the Hobbit’s farewell. 

Wasn’t his request to call him Bilbo, not Master Baggins, a clear sign that their friendship was near fully mended?

Balin’s advice was stewing in his thoughts; what if he had done something so inappropriate that the Hobbit had indeed hidden from him today, without a trace. 

_What if he never returned?_

The sound of heavy, heeled boots approaching disrupted his self-wallowing, for he was all too familiar with the reverberating echo of those shoes in the Throne Room, and who the sound belonged to.

A punch to his left arm announced the arrival of his sister, right on cue. “How’s the pining coming along, Nadad?’

Thorin turned and scowled, only to be greeted by her wolfish grin. “There is no _pining_ taking place here, Namad. I’m assuming Balin sent you?”

Her smile widened, displaying all of her white teeth. It was a terrifying spectacle, but he was used to her interrogation techniques after years of practice. “Nonsense, _O King._ ” She batted her eyelashes and walked around the throne, to face him. “I simply followed the smell of melancholy that wafted into in my rooms, and it led me here.”

“Enough of your games, Namad. What do you want?” He sighed, unimpressed by the whole charade. 

“Oh don’t be so serious all the time, Nadad. It is all in good humour, I assure you. It’s just…” She paused, squinting at his miserable appearance. “You have never been this troubled over somebody disappearing for a few hours, what makes the Hobbit so special?” 

Unsure whether to open himself up to ridicule or keep his peace, he opted for decoy tactics. “And why, Namad mine, are you suddenly so interested in my affairs?”

She groaned exasperatedly, swatting his knee indignantly. “Thorin, really. You are acting like a spoiled princeling.” Her smile faltered, concern furrowing her brows. “Honestly, Nadad. Why all the search parties and trouble over Master Baggins?”

“He is an advisor to the Throne and member of The Company, he deserves all the _trouble-_ ”

“Nadad, I’m family. Not a council member. A direct answer, please.”

He hesitated, fully aware of the significance of his answer. “He is… important. To me. I value his companionship highly.” His forehead crumpled in concern. “And he was behaving out of character yesterday, rather anxious. I fear something is troubling Bilbo.”

She smiled and clapped her hands together, appearing rather proud with herself. “Well, Nadad, you can ask him about it now. Dwalin found him with Bofur on his way over here, a few moments ago. I was notified as I entered to speak with you.”

He glared at her furiously, knuckles whitening as he grasped the arms of the Throne to still himself. “And why did you forget to mention that earlier? Did you enjoy watching me squirm, Namad, as I revealed my innermost thoughts to you?” He spat out, furious with his meddling sister.

Her smile widened. “Actually no. I think you were revealing your innermost thoughts to _yourself_.”

She turned and beckoned to Balin, standing silently behind the Throne. “Please, dearest Balin, would you let our Hobbit know that he is most welcome to join us?”

“Of course your Highness, I’ll fetch the lad.” He bowed elegantly and shuffled down the hallway, gesturing at the guards to open the doors.

She spun around, facing Thorin once more. “You rarely understand your own thoughts, Nadad. I was not teasing, only trying to… help you along the way.”

Thorin composed himself, hands calmly placed in his lap, face unreadable. “Nevermind. Send the Hobbit in.”

Someone had some explaining to do.

 

\---

 

Bilbo had been waiting with Bofur for a while now, anxiously jiggling his leg, as he sat in a small private room to the Throne Room. “Did I really make that much of an impact?” He looked up at Bofur, now whittling a small wolf’s head out of wood, absentmindedly.

He smiled reassuringly down at the Hobbit. “Aye, I spoke the truth.” He leaned in closer, whispering. “Just apologise a lot and compliment Thorin a few times, that usually does the trick.”

“Bofur, how often do you find yourself apologising to the King?”

He chuckled in response. “Enough times, Master Bilbo. Hopefully you won’t be in this situation again.”

“We are in agreement on that, this waiting business is doing my head in-”

The door cracked open loudly, causing the room’s inhabitants to silence themselves. Balin strolled inside and cheerily walked over to the Hobbit, pulling him into a quick embrace.

“Good to see you, Master Baggins. You had us all worried.”

Bilbo smiled apologetically at the grinning, white bearded Dwarf. “Yes, I have heard it retold many times today, last time I try to get some peace and quiet.”

The Dwarf laughed good naturedly, the warm sound taking the edge off the Hobbit’s nerves. “Aye, lad. I fear there will be no peace for you for a little while, I fear.” 

He hung his head, abashedly. “I thought so.”

“Well, we will have more than enough time to hear your full story, but I fear the King wishes to speak with you…” He turned to nod at Bofur. “Alone, I fear. Many thanks for bringing Bilbo along.”

“Aye, I thought as much.” Bofur replied whilst standing, and winked at Bilbo. “You’ll be fine, Bilbo. I will see you soon enough.” He clapped the Hobbit on the shoulder and left, turning to at the doorway offer a comforting smile before he left Bilbo’s view.

“Now, Master Baggins. Thorin awaits you in the Throne Room.”

The Hobbit gulped, looking up at the kind Dwarf. “Promise he won’t lock me away?” 

Balin chuckled softly. “Sorry lad, I fear no one can tell Thorin what to do.”

Bilbo took a fortifying breath, and stared at the open doors intently.

“Alright, then. _Let’s go see the King_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies!
> 
> So, a bit more insight into the whole Thorin/Bilbo situation, with some Balin POV thrown in.  
> There will be actual interaction between the two idiots next chapter, and yes, Thorin is a brooding oaf.
> 
> Also, Nadad: Brother and Namad: Sister, just in case.
> 
> As I said previously, this is my first fic, and it is un beta-d, so if I have missed anything, sorry.
> 
> Some sassy Thorin ahead!  
> Berunien


	4. How does one convince a Hobbit?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wastes no more of Erebor's time, does some research, and deals with Thorin.

“Master Baggins, I see that we have been _graced_ once more with your presence.”

Oh yes, Bilbo was in trouble.

Offering his most genuine smile, Bilbo glanced up at the King, feigning confidence. “I apologise, My King-” He bowed, “-I did not realize that my short absence would create such a commotion.

Thorin leaned forward on the Throne, narrowing his eyes. “Indeed, but kindly explain why, with all the guards searching for you, how you were not found?”

He swallowed, lie prepped and ready. “I fear I was in the abandoned balconies in the higher levels of the mountain, I must have been so absorbed with my work that I did not hear their calls… Majesty.”

Thorin was not convinced. Bilbo was agitatedly shifting his weight from side to side, and was fiddling with something inside his pocket nervously. Something was amiss.

“Halfling-” He barked, causing the Hobbit to wince. “-you mean to tell me that you just… _accidentally vanished_ from my guards?” He accused, incredulously.

“Ah, yes?”

Thorin leaned back, stroking his chin as he observed the Hobbit intently. “And just happened to _forget_ about your meeting with your fellow farmers? A meeting which you have _never_ before missed.”

Bilbo stilled, eyes faltering. “I will apologise to them first thing tomorrow, I assure you. It was not my intention to waste their time.

“What was indeed your intention, Master Baggins?” 

“I just… lost track of time.” He muttered quietly,  unable to meet Thorin’s glare.

“I do not have to remind you, Master Baggins, that as an advisor to the Crown, a higher expectation befalls you, particularly in regards to your _discretion_?”

Bilbo looked up, taken aback by the subtle accusation. “ _Discretion_!? Really! Is there something that I have done, and not been notified of?” He shook his head frustratedly. “Did I really offend you so, it was only _two hours_.” He placed his hands on his hips, incredulously 

Thorin was dumbfounded, not expecting an accusation in return. “Watch your tongue, Master Baggins.”

He groaned tiredly. “I have told you what happened, and _apologised_. Please instruct me how to continue, _your Highness_ …” his last two words spoken sarcastically.

“You will not waste Erebor’s time again, and disappear without warning. As a Council Member, you are a target for enemies of the Crown, and at risk.” He gestured for to two guards to come forward. “You will have an escort of two guards follow you, from tomorrow.” Bilbo started opening his mouth to object, and Thorin shot him a scathing look, silencing him. “I will _not_ be challenged on this, you must understand that your safety is paramount.”

“Are you being serious?” He let out a mirthless laugh. “This is completely unnecessary, _I was just exploring the balconies_!”

Thorin stood, scowling down at the fretting Hobbit. “We will have words later, I expect to see you after dinner to talk this over properly.” He waved them away, and turned to leave the room.

“Oh yes, Thorin Oakenshield, we will _indeed_ have words.” Bilbo muttered under his breath, the two guards escorting him out.

 

\---

 

Bilbo rounded a corner hastily and bumped into a rather startled Ori, who let out a high-pitched yelp. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ori! I seem to be in a habit of running into you when you’re on the way somewhere.”

Ori calmed himself and smiled. “It’s quite alright, Bilbo. I’m just glad you’re found!” Bilbo’s smile faded. “Oh, is everything fine?” 

Bilbo sighed heavily. “I just saw Thorin… let’s just say he was not too pleased. 

“Well come along, I am sure you need somebody to talk to, and I feel some tea is in order."

“Oh Ori, I have been needing a good cup of tea _all day_.”

 

\---

 

Ori led him up to the library, and steered Bilbo into his private office. The room suited Ori perfectly, filled with old books, balls of yarn, and numerous scrolls of parchment strewn all over his wooden desk. He had two large, green armchairs in the opposing corner, one covered in half-finished knitting projects.

“I am sorry about the mess-” He moved the knitting pile to a box by the desk, dusting the chair down haphazardly. “-please, sit, I’ll go fetch some tea and be right back.”

Bilbo sank into the velvet chair, releasing a contented sigh. He looked around the cluttered space eagerly, attempting to discover anything to entertain himself with till Ori got back. Behind Ori’s desk, he noticed a tall stack of deep blue leather-bound books. The Hobbit stood and walked over, the books peaking his interest. At a closer inspection, he realised they were in Sindarin, this fact raising his interest more so.

He blew off the dust and coughed, waving the dust away. “Magic in Middle earth, the First to the Third Age…” He mumbled to himself, reading out loud. He selected the first edition and carefully slid it out of the stack, ensuring to avoid a landslide of books. He sat back in his chair, and began to read. 

The rattling of a tea tray roused him from his concentration, signalling the return of Ori.

“Oh, I see you found the books I have been working on lately, though I fear I cannot tell you what they are about, since they are in Elvish.” Ori poured him some tea and passed the cup and saucer over to Bilbo, who nodded gratefully.

“It’s a book about magic, how odd...”

Ori perked up, interested. “Magic, really! I wonder if Gandalf helped write it.”

Bilbo turned to the first page, inspecting the names listed. “No Mithrandir, just Elvish authors listed." 

“Oh, well, it’s still an interesting read… if you want you can borrow it? You’ll just have to be careful, since I haven’t finished restoring them quite yet.”

Bilbo smiled over to the eager Dwarf, who was now adorably nibbling on the corner of a small cake. “You know what, I just might. It may be exactly what I need right now.”

Ori put down his cake and raised an eyebrow, interested. “Why would you need to know about magic, Bilbo?”

“Oh, just, you know… there might be some tips about restoring the land from dragon fire?” Bilbo hoped he sounded convincing, not in the mood to avoid another round of interrogations. 

“You have always been good with gardening, I remember the beautiful flowers you had at Bag End.”

“Yes, they were…” He answered half-heartedly and peered up at Ori, who was now sympathetically looking at him. “Oh, not you fussing over me too, I’ve had quite enough of everyone worrying about me today.

“I’m not _fussing_ , don’t mind me...” Ori sipped his tea bashfully, then looked up inquisitively. “ _Who_ else today?”

Bilbo choked on his tea, unaware of his slip. “Oh, just Bofur, you know… fussing. 

Ori raised an eyebrow, questioningly. “Since when does _Bofur_ fuss about you? It’s more something you’d expect from Dori.” He groaned. “He won’t stop bothering me, that’s for sure.”

“Oh he means well, your brother.” He beamed. “Plus, he’s too busy worrying about Nori to be bothering you too much, these days. 

“Yes, but you still haven’t answered my question, Bilbo…” He enquired, as politely as possible.

“Right. Well, Bofur is the one who found me after I snuck up on poor Bombur in the kitchens, and gave me an earful about disappearing for so long.”

Ori nodded, mulling over the Hobbit’s words, and took another sip of tea.

Bilbo was tired of lying to everyone today, but until he understood exactly what was going on, and that he wasn’t just having a mental breakdown, he would keep it to himself.

“As long as you’re sure, Bilbo. You know that you can tell me anything that is troubling you, yes? 

Bilbo smiled. “Of course, Ori. Just a lot of things happening today, I fear-” He was interrupted by a very frazzled Dori bursting in the room, hair askew.

“Ori, I’ll be needing your assistance, lad.” He turned and nodded towards Bilbo. “Good to see you back, Master Bilbo, but I fear that our brother is up to no good again, and I need Ori to help me talk him out of doing something rather stupid.”

Bilbo grinned up at him. “How unusual, so out of character.”

“Yes, well, you know how he is.” He groaned exasperatedly.

Ori stood up, brushed the crumbs off his lap and smiled apologetically towards Bilbo. “I’m awfully sorry about this, but I really must be off.” He gestured towards the pile of Elvish books in the corner. “Take as many as you like, I’ll come pick them up from your rooms when you are done with them.”

Bilbo stood up and waved them both away. “You’re too kind, Ori. Now, please, go! I’m fine here, your brother needs you.”

 Dori nodded appreciatively at him, grabbed Ori by the elbow and they hurried out of the room, leaving Bilbo alone in the study.

 “Now-“ He clapped his hands together, turning towards the tower of books. “-let’s see if we can find anything about magical wardrobes…”

 

\---

 

Bilbo was exhausted.

He found himself dozing off, surrounded by the dusty books on his bed, face first in a rather bleak chapter about the history of magic. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was getting late.

Bilbo slid out of bed and cricked his back, sleeping face first with his knees curled under his body was not exactly the most comfortable sleeping position he had ever been in. He walked through to his study, rubbing his face tiredly, and noticed a plate of dinner that had been left for him. “How kind.” He mumbled between mouthfuls, unsure of the last time he had eaten. He leaned back in his chair contentedly, patting his full stomach. 

“Well, time to get back to this reading.” He grumbled to himself, walking back into his bedroom. He stood at the edge of his bed, sighing at the sight before him. There were 12 books spread over his bed, and he had only skimmed through two. “This is going to be a long night. 

He sat back on his bed, crossing his legs, and pulled the closest book into his lap. He skimmed the table of contents, deeming the book useless, its pages only covering dragon lore. Moving the book aside, he picked up another. This time, it outlined sacred places and realms. “Finally, some good luck.” He muttered to himself, flipping through the pages.

 

\---

 

 

In a particularly interesting chapter about the Undying Lands, he found himself interrupted by a loud knock at his door.

“By Eru, if this is another block-headed Dwarf here to fuss over me and ask what happened, I will slam this door right back in their face.” He mumbled agitatedly to himself, storming towards the door.

He jerked the door open, causing the offending Dwarf to lurch forward. He caught his step and glared down at the Hobbit.

“Thorin-” He sighed ”-and what do I owe the pleasure?” _Of course, who else would it be…_ he thought grimly.

“I told you I wanted to see you tonight, did I not.”

“Yes, of course, sorry. I fear I got carried away with my reading.” He gestured flippantly behind him to his book-laden bed, making Thorin peer in at the strange sight.

“Is this going to become a new habit of yours, forgetting where you are?” Thorin asked, a small grin forming at the corners of his mouth.

Bilbo laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, I assure you. Just with everything that has happened today-”

“Ah yes, today.” He cut in. “I have tea and supper waiting in my study, shall we discuss it further?”

“Of course, lead the way.” Bilbo nodded, closing the door behind him as they walked into the hallway.

Thorin opened the doors and let Bilbo inside, closing them behind him. He waved Bilbo towards the table, and took a seat himself, opposite the Hobbit. 

“Thorin, I really must-“

“Please, Bilbo.” He interjected, again. “I do not want your apologies, I simply wish to understand what happened today.” He gestured for Bilbo to eat, but the Hobbit remained still.

Bilbo guiltily looked down at the lavish scene of tea and cakes before him and instantly lost his appetite, the image of a hysterical faun all too fresh in the back of his mind.

Noticing his hesitation, Thorin spoke again. “Bilbo… I know that I lost my temper earlier-“

The Hobbit let out a choked laugh, shaking his head. “Thorin, you insulted my _discretion_ in front of Balin and Princess Dis! And now, I’ll be followed everywhere with two guards! Its completely unnecessary.”

“Bilbo, I did not ask you to join me so that we could argue.” He looked him in the eye. “Really, Bilbo. What happened?”

He could not maintain eye contact, and dropped his view to stare into his empty teacup. “I-I told you. I just lost track of time…” He stuttered.

 _Well, that is the truth,_ he mused to himself, _it’s just that I lost track of time whilst having tea with a faun._

Bilbo was starting to scare him. “Are you in trouble?" 

Another choked laugh in reply. “No, no. It is not _I_ that is in trouble.”

Thorin leaned forward in his chair, his worry increasing by the second. “Bilbo… what is going on?”

He looked Thorin in the eye, shaking his head. “You would not believe me." 

“Have we not travelled together and been through enough hardship for you to trust me?”

Bilbo stood slowly, walking over to the wardrobe, Thorin’s eyes watching his every step.

“It’s your coats, they’re…” He trailed off, now standing in front of the wooden doorway. He reached at the handle and tugged it open, and blinked. There was just a plain, everyday, wardrobe. No snow, and no lamppost

He stifled a sharp intake of breath in his hand.

“What, Bilbo? You look as if you have seen a ghost?” Thorin was standing now, walking towards him. 

“It’s nothing-” He turned to face the Dwarf, trying with all his might to pull of a convincing smile. “I… I just wanted to thank you for letting me use one today, it was so warm…"

Thorin was not buying it, not for one second.

“Bilbo, I know that you did not disappear today because of the warmth of a mere coat. Please, I cannot help you if you do not tell me what is going on.” He tried to console Bilbo and place a hand on his shoulder, but Bilbo flinched at the movement and took a small step back. Feeling as if he had been burned, Thorin retracted his hand and put it once more by his side. 

“I’m sorry, Thorin. It’s just… it’s been a long day.” He looked up at the Dwarf, trying to keep his voice as even as he could.

Thorin shook his head. “I should not have expected you to be so open with me, after how I treated you earlier. But I will still need to know what happened, when you are able to tell me.”

Bilbo smiled sadly, shrugging miserably. “I do not know when that will be. I am still trying to make sense of it all myself." 

“Is… is there another individual involved?” Thorin asked quietly, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

“Well, yes, but-” He saw the way Thorin’s face twisted with hurt, instantly regretting his words. “Not in the manner which you might be thinking! No, I just think someone may be hurt because of my actions.”

Thorin retreated back to his chair, leaving the Hobbit to stand alone by the wardrobe.

“You owe me no explanations.” He stated coolly, his face slowly transforming into his usual unreadable mask.

“What? Thorin, you were just questioning me about what happened a second ago?" 

Thorin waved away Bilbo’s question. “It is not of any importance anymore. I have heard enough.”

This was getting ridiculous. Bilbo stormed over to the table and banged his fists on the wooden surface, leaning forward to face Thorin, who didn’t flinch. “I assure you, what happened is so different from what you are thinking, you have _no idea_."

“Oh, I have an _idea_ of what you were up to, hiding away in the darkness, out of sight from all my guards.” He snarled, icy façade shattering.

Bilbo took two steps back, wounded. “If you are suggesting what I think you are-”

“I am not suggesting anything.” He barked. “You may do what you wish with anyone, it is none of my concern. All I ask, is that you at least notify a guard when you disappear, so I do not have to turn the mountain upside down to find you.” His voice had risen by the end of his sentence, and was yelling over the table at the confused Hobbit.

“Thorin… ” Bilbo pleaded, voice quieted by the confrontation. 

“I am done here.”

There were three polite, yet sharp knocks on the door.

“Enter.” He called, the harshness of his voice making Bilbo jump.

Balin opened the door and carefully entered, eyes scoping the scene that lay before him. “I am so sorry to interrupt you, my King, but something has arisen and I am afraid it cannot wait.” 

Thorin nodded and stood abruptly, not meeting the Hobbit’s eye. “Till tomorrow, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo looked up at him, deeply saddened by the whole affair. “Till tomorrow.”

Thorin strode out of the room, and did not look back.

Balin gestured for him to leave, offering him a comforting smile. “He’s had a trying day, laddie. I’m sure he will sort out whatever is going on between you two soon enough."

Bilbo shook his head miserably. “I don’t think so, Balin. Not this time.”

“He will come around in time, when he is ready. Chin up, Bilbo. It cannot be so bad.

Bilbo shrugged and walked out of the room, Balin tutting to himself behind him. _If those two don’t sort this out soon, I’ll have to lock them in a room until it is done, Mahal give me strength._

 

\---

 

Bilbo was so lost in his own thoughts, that he did not notice where he was walking when he bumped into a passing Dwarf and fell on his rear, the Dwarf now draped over his feet.

“Honestly, what else is going to happen today? Huh? Am I going to be trampled by an Oliphant or squashed by a falling boulder?” He moaned miserably, standing up and dusting himself off. 

“Hey, don’t know why you’re the one complaining, you’re the one that ran into me."

“Oh Kili, I’m so sorry.” Bilbo reached forward and helped the Prince up, thoroughly embarrassed.

Kili grinned at his fussing, swatting away his hands. “I’m fine, Bilbo. Trust me, I’ve had worse than being trampled by a mere Hobbit.” He added cheekily. 

Bilbo sighed and leaned against the wall wretchedly. “I really am sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.”

“Everything alright, Bilbo?”

Bilbo laughed mirthlessly, the smile not reaching his eyes. “You know, you’re the third Dwarf to ask me that today.”

Kili’s brow furrowed, this melancholy was not like Bilbo at all. “Is it Uncle? Has he gone off at you again?"

“No, Kili. Don’t worry, honestly…"

“If he has, I can have a word with him? He does listen to me _sometimes_.”

Bilbo smiled up at him, who was now so sweetly concerned about the Hobbit, and patted his shoulder. “Thank you for the offer, Kili, but it is not needed.” He groaned, eyes gazing at his bedroom door. “I really must sleep, though.”

He stepped out of the way to let the Hobbit past. “I can knock some sense into him, if you need.”

Bilbo’s hand now at his doorknob, he entered and turned to face the Dwarf. “I have done enough damage, I think. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kili.”

“Goodnight, Bilbo.”

“Goodnight.”

 

\---

 

Bilbo sat on his bed, numb.

_Why did the wardrobe not open? I was so sure that it would work, and that I could just tell Thorin then and there what happened, and get this whole nasty business sorted out._

He pulled off his weskit and threw it on the floor, uncaring where it would fall, and fell backwards onto the bed, sighing loudly.

_Now he thinks that I ran off and had an… encounter with another Dwarf. He was so hurt, why? All of a sudden, he cares who I spend time with, but keeps me constantly at an arms length?_

Bilbo pulled a pillow over his head, and lay there for a while, deliberating over what had just happened. Abruptly, he shot up and grabbed his dressing gown from his bed, tying it swiftly around his waist.

“I think it is time to pay another visit to Mr Tumnus, bring something back as proof, and sort this all out.” He mumbled to himself, heading for the door. He grabbed a lit lantern from his desk, and readied himself.

“I’m going to fix this."

And he bounded out of his room, headed straight for Thorin’s study.

 

\---

 

Kili felt awful, leaving Bilbo in that distressed state, but one thing he knew is that he could not push that Hobbit to do anything he did not want to do. He sat at his desk, aimlessly doodling, trying to work out how he could improve Thorin’s mood.

A soft padding noise interrupted his daydreaming, spiking his interest. He quietly creaked open his door, and spotted the ludicrous display of Bilbo crouched, sneaking off to Thorin’s study, wrapped in his dressing gown. Observing him carefully, he waited until he saw Bilbo disappear into the room, then whirled around and grabbed his coat and creeped out into the hallway.

He checked the hallway for guards, and after seeing none in sight, noiselessly opened Thorin’s study door open carefully, hoping not to be spotted. Bilbo wandered over to a strange, old wardrobe in the corner of the room and turned around, checking to ensure he was alone. Kili ducked his head out, closing the door carefully, and waited. He peeked in again, and was not sure what he was seeing. Bilbo opened the wardrobe quietly, lantern held aloft, but when the door was fully open a wind gusted out and blew the candle out.

Bilbo released a small chuckle and disappeared inside, closing the door behind him.

Of all the things for Kili to stumble in on, this was definitely not what he was expecting.

He waited a few minutes until he was sure Bilbo was settled, then entered the room silently, walked over to the wardrobe, opening the door slowly.

“Bilbo?” He whispered urgently, gaining no response. He climbed into the closet himself, closing the heavy door in his wake. “Hope you’re not afraid of the dark!”

He continued walking forward, brushing the coats aside, and fell face forward into a mound of snow. Spluttering through a mouthful of it, he stood up and turned to face the wardrobe, then turned again to face the rest of the forest.

“Where did he get off to, now?”

He grabbed a coat from the wardrobe and walked towards the lamppost, checking for footprints or any signs of where the Hobbit had disappeared to.

Kili trudged through the snow, calling out Bilbo’s name, unsure where he was going.

“Bilbo? Bilbo come on now, stop hiding." 

He continued on and found a makeshift path, calling out again and again for his lost Hobbit. Standing in the middle of the path, he turned around and searched, the falling snow limiting his view. Far down the path, he heard someone approaching, with bells chiming in the background. Kili squinted and walked towards the sound, eyes straining in the white nothingness. “Bilbo?”

A hazy silhouette appeared in the distance, looming closer, the sound increasing in volume.

The sound soon transformed into hoof beats and as Kili continued walking towards it, started making out what appeared to be six white stags pulling a sleigh, spurred on by someone shouting. The sleigh accelerated and Kili was forced to jump out of the way at the last moment, nearly missing being trodden under hoof. 

Noticing the leaping Dwarf, the sleigh slammed to a halt, and a voice called out that was the most beautiful sound that Kili had ever heard, like jingling bells or the finest harp.

“What is your name, son of Durin?”

 

\---

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies!
> 
> I fear I have uploaded this chapter rather abruptly, so I apologise if any anything is askew.
> 
> This is my first fic, and I am currently un-beta'd, so I fear there may be things I have missed...
> 
> Kili adventures ahead!  
> Berunien


	5. Ale and sweeties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili really need to be separated, they are a menace.

Before Kili could respond to the ethereal voice a strange, pointy-booted Dwarf came hurtling towards him in the most ridiculous, floppy red fur hat Kili had seen; with his greying beard hanging nearly to his feet, tattered and dreaded. Kili yelped, then found himself pinned him to the ground, knife at his throat. The odd Dwarf snarled down at him, his mangy beard getting in Kili’s face.

“Get your pet to let go of me!” He wriggled in the grip, which only tightened in response. “How dare you lay a hand on me, if Thorin finds out-”

The Dwarf grunted and pushed the knife closer to Kili’s throat, releasing a drop of blood. “How dare you address the Queen of Narnia!”

“I didn’t know!”

“You will know her better hereafter!” He reached back, poised to strike.

‘Wait, Ginarrbrik.” The beautiful voice sounded again, stilling the Dwarf’s hand. Kili peered up to see where the sound had come from, his eyes widening at the fair creature that approached. She was the loveliest woman he had ever seen: tall, with pointed features, framed by dreaded white blonde hair. She was draped in pure white furs, and a crown of icicles was set into her mane of hair. Kili was left breathless by her ethereal beauty.

“You did not answer my question, Son of Durin.” She inquired softly, gesturing for him to stand.

He dusted himself down and stood awkwardly. “Uh, Kili.”

“And how, Kili, did you come to enter my Kingdom?”

He looked up, trying to steel himself. “I’m not sure, I just followed Bilbo and he sort of led me here…”

“Bilbo?”

“Y-Yes, he is advisor to my Uncle, King Thorin II-”

“How many are you?” She interrupted, gracefully approaching the stuttering Dwarf.

“Well, including the Hobbit, four of us I suppose. I think Bilbo may have been here before, he disappeared earlier today…”

“Kili, you look so cold-” She stepped back and signalled for him to join her. “Will you come and sit with me?”

He followed and hovered hesitantly by the side of the sleigh, so she gestured for him to sit closely next to her, and put her arm around his shoulders, drawing him in close. She pulled her firs around both of them, and turned to face him.

“Now, how about something warming to drink? Perhaps some ale?”

“Yes please… your Majesty”

She turned and retrieved a small silver vial, letting one drop fall to the ground. A copper tankard materialised in its place, filled to the brim with rich, dark ale.

Ginarrbrik stooped and retrieved the tankard and handed it over to the young Dwarf, bowing slightly. “Your drink, sire.”

“How did you do that?” He peered up at the icy beauty, taking a tentative sip of ale, humming contentedly as he felt the warmth start to spread down his chest and into his fingertips.

“I can make anything you like, son of Durin.”

“Can you make me taller?” He inquired cheekily, utilising his most dashing smile.

She laughed lightly, the sound dancing musically in the chill air. “Anything you would like to _eat_.”

“Like, sweets?”

She smiled and let another drop from the vial fall to the snow, this time a small ornamental silver chest appeared in the drop’s place. Yet again, it was handed to Kili who excitedly handed his ale over and placed the delicate item on his lap and opened it, revealing a mixture of hard-boiled sweets. Ginarrbrik took the ale and threw it behind himself aimlessly; it hit a tree and shattered, transforming back into a pile of snow.

Kili popped one of the sweets into his mouth and closed his eyes, moaning happily as the Queen eyed him intently.

“Kili? I would very much like to meet the rest of your family.”

He frowned and looked up at her. “Why? They’re nothing special, really.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re not nearly as _delightful_ as you are-” She reached behind and snatched Ginarrbrik’s fuzzy hat and used it to wipe away the white icing sugar around the corners of Kili’s mouth. “But you see, Kili, I have no heir of my own, and you are _exactly_ the kind of Dwarf that I can see, one day, becoming Prince of Narnia…” She ran her fingers through his hair soothingly, and he leant into the touch. “Maybe even King.”

Kili beamed up at her. “Really? Everyone is always going on about how reckless I am, and how Fili is made for ruling, not me…”

She smiled in return. “Yes you, my Prince. Of course, you would have to bring your family-”

“Oh.” He interrupted, lowering his gaze. “Do you mean Fili would rule too?”

“No! no, no.” She shook her head, laughing softly. She looked up and offered him a coy grin. “But of course, a King will need servants…”

He grinned, impish smile beaming up at her. “I _guess_ I could bring ‘em.”

She leaned in close and held his chin, steering his view to the left side of the sleigh. “Beyond these woods, you see those two hills? My house is right between them.” She pressed her hand into the small of his back, steering him up and off the sleigh. “You would love it there, Kili. It has whole rooms full to burst with all the Ale and food you could imagine.”

“Couldn’t I have some more now…” He inquired, bashfully.

“No!-” She barked harshly, making him take a step back. The Queen quickly softened her expression and shot him a warm smile. “Don’t want to ruin your appetite.” She spoke, gently. “Besides, you and I are going to see each other very soon.”

He stepped down onto the snow, gazing up at her affectionately. “I hope so, your Majesty.”

“Until then, dear one.” She leaned forward, smiling fondly. “I am going to miss you.”

She sat back in her furs and waved forward, stirring the sleigh into action. Kili remained standing, eyes unfocussed, as if in a haze. He shook his head and turned back towards where he had come, and took one step forward and froze, hearing branches snap behind him.

“Kili?”

He turned and was greeted by the grinning Hobbit, who clapped him companionably on the shoulder. “Oh Kili, how wonderful! You got in too, isn’t it marvellous here.”

“Where have you been?”

Bilbo hesitantly looked up at him, abashed. “Well, I was actually having tea with a faun…”

“A faun? What in Mahal’s name is that?”

Bilbo chuckled, shaking his head. “My dear lad, it is a man with _goat’s legs_! I know, how extraordinary!”

Kili took a step back, eyeing the Hobbit disbelievingly. “Are you sure you’re alright, Bilbo?”

“My dear Dwarf, I am more than fine! Mr Tumnus is well, the White Witch has not discovered that he had tea with me earlier-”

“Wait a minute, what do you mean _White Witch_?”

Bilbo looked cautiously about, leaning forward to whisper slyly. “She calls herself the Queen of Narnia, but actually she isn’t.” Kili gulped. “Are you alright, Kili? You look awful.”

“Well, what do you expect?” He replied, accusingly. “Of course I am, it’s freezing... more importantly, how do we get out of here?”

“Come on…” He grabbed Kili’s elbow and marched them towards the wardrobe. “This way.”

They hurried through the fur coats, and back into the warmth of Thorin’s study.

Kili turned around and pulled his arm free of the Hobbit, who was watching him intently. “So that’s where you disappeared to this morning!”

“Well, yes. You can see now why I couldn’t exactly tell Thorin that I had tea with a _faun,_ in a distant kingdom, transported by his _wardrobe._ ”

He quieted, staring at the wardrobe fixatedly. “I guess so, but did you really have to lie to everyone?”

Bilbo sighed heavily. “Yes, Kili. And besides, Thorin already has enough to worry about, no need to burden him with the news that there is another land beyond his wardrobe.”

“But didn’t you have a fight today because you lied to him? I heard the shouting all the way back in my rooms.”

The Hobbit groaned and rubbed his face tiredly, thoroughly done with the day. “Yes, but I would rather him have a poor opinion of me, than start ordering for an _invasion_ or something just as brash.”

Kili scoffed, crossing his arms. “Uncle would not invade Narnia without reason, Bilbo. I swear, sometimes you are as ridiculous as he is-” He was interrupted by the sound of incoming footsteps, headed straight for them. “You get out of here, I’ll distract him.”

Bilbo nodded and tiptoed to the door, hiding behind Kili’s imposing frame.

“Don’t tell anyone about what happened tonight, okay Kili?” Kili began to groan, but was promptly shushed by a piercing look from Bilbo. “I need to work out what is going on, before we get your Uncle involved. Yes?” Kili gave a strained look in response, but eventually nodded.

“Fine, but I don’t like this, not at all.”

“I know, but just be patient.”

“Yes, I have heard _that_ before.” He groaned.

The footsteps stilled, and Kili gestured for the Hobbit to wait. He burst the door open, grinning at his shocked uncle. “Uncle! Just who I was looking for!” He walked forward brashly, pushing Thorin backwards into the hallway, and gestured behind his back for Bilbo to sneak out and to his room, and avoid any more conflict.

Thorin scowled at his nephew. “Yes, Kili. What is it you need this late at night?”

Kili chuckled and clapped Thorin on the back, steering him back into the study and turning him away from the crouching Hobbit. “Why, I just wanted to see my Uncle, of course! When do I need to have a reason to pay a visit?”

Unconvinced by the charade, Thorin’s scowl deepened as they entered his office. “Fine, I have some ale-”

“Fantastic!” He slammed the door behind them, and Bilbo let out a sigh of relief.

He crept back into his bedchamber, pulled off his dressing gown, and passed out on his bed fully clothed.

 

 

\---

 

  

Bilbo nursed what was his fifth cup of tea for that day, groaning tiredly. This research business was really taking its toll on the bored Hobbit, the chronicles turning out to be an exceptionally dry read. He slid out of his four-poster bed and stretched, his back cracking in the sudden movement.

Bilbo turned and looked at his bed and sighed. It was covered with double the amount of books than yesterday; after visiting Ori earlier that morning the eager Dwarf had lent him even more chronicles on Magic in Middle Earth, much to his joy and dismay. Only miniscule pockets of his blood-red velvet duvet could be seen, the rest swamped by dusty volumes. He refilled his teacup and paced around his room, taking a long gulp of tea.

“Surely there must be _something_ in here of some use!” He muttered to himself irritably, gesturing wildly at his messy bed.

He let out a deep sigh and returned to his bed begrudgingly, carefully ensuring not to spill any amber liquid on the ancient pages. “Well, time to dive back in, I suppose.”

He put his tea down and reached across the bed, pulling a large sea-green book into his lap, which sported a beautifully decorated cover, with silver leaf pattern detailing. He traced over the raised pattern with his fingers, inspecting it closely. “Enchantments and Security: A History.” He read the title aloud tiredly, groaning as he opened the 500-page chronicle to its table of contents.

He coughed from the dust, swatting the air agitatedly. “…Chapter seven: Enchanted pathways and doors… _Finally_ , I might actually be getting somewhere.” He mumbled to himself, heaving the large pages open to the correct place.

He flipped through the pages, searching for anything of use. “…A common Dwarven technique for securing passages is through the utilisation of enchanted doors, many of them making use of Moon Runes or vocal commands…” He flipped the page, speed-reading and using his finger to keep place. “…ensuring that only the craftsmen know where the door truly lies… unable to be forced open… Ah!” He exclaimed, shuffling backwards towards his lantern to get more light, and a closer look.

“Other doors, Dwarven crafted or not, may be hidden in plain sight, taking the form of pillars or objects in the room…” He flipped the page again excitedly and halted. “The secret to these doors is hiding the space behind, ensuring that there is no indication that a further extension of the space exists...” He groaned and slumped into the pillows defeatedly. “I meant _magic_ doors, not secret doors! I am _very_ sure that Narnia is not tucked away in the side of this blasted mountain!” He declared loudly, his patience wearing thin.

His declarations were halted by three loud knocks, stilling the Hobbit. “Enter?”

Kili popped his head through the door, grinning impishly. “Bilbo! Just the Hobbit I was after.”

“I’m the only Hobbit you are ever after, for Eru’s sake!”

Kili chuckled amusedly, and entered the room. “Now, Bilbo. What has got you all worked up on this fine afternoon?”

Bilbo waved frustratedly at his bed, earning a bigger grin from Kili. “It’s these useless books! You would think that for all the _vastness_ of Erebor’s library, that they would have something about magic doors.”

“Chin up, Bilbo! I know you will sort this out soon enough.” He walked over to the bed and pushed some books aside, perching awkwardly on the opposite side of the bed. “Here, let me help out.” He puled a book into his lap and opened it far too roughly, ripping the spine slightly, causing the Hobbit to have a sharp intake of breath.

“Carefully, Kili! Oh, you need to be more gentle with these old book” He groaned and reached over to the opposite side of the bed, yanking the book out of the bashful Dwarf’s grasp.

“I was just trying to help!”

“Yes, well, just not with these poor ancient ones.” He handed a new, solid chronicle over to the Dwarf carefully. “Just look for something about doors or passages, we should hopefully find something soon.”

Kili nodded and opened the book, squinting at its contents, flipped a few pages and paused. “Bilbo? Why is there a diagram of two male Dwarves going at it?”

Bilbo yelped and reached across the bed swiftly to slam the book closed and pull it out of the young Dwarf’s grasp. He turned the book in his hands, staring blankly at the cover. “Why did you not read the title? It’s about love potions and incantations, you should not be reading about such things!”

Kili grinned over at the embarrassed Hobbit, who was now turning a deep shade of red. “Bilbo, you _do_ know that I’m of age, yes? I do know what… _happens_ , I’m not a child.”

Bilbo covered his face in his hands, wishing to end the conversation promptly. “Kili, I am not the person you should be having this conversation with right now. Please find another book to go through so I do not die from embarrassment.”

He grinned cheekily, raising an eyebrow at Bilbo coyly. “Bilbo… why did you have that book?”

“Ori just handed me a pile of books about magic, I-I did not look at the titles.” He spluttered indignantly.

Kili scoffed, making Bilbo turn an even deeper shade of red. “Yes, I am sure that is _exactly_ what happened.”

Bilbo grabbed another book and threw it at Kili’s head, who caught it with one hand, tutting at the fuming Hobbit. “Now Bilbo, _please_ be careful with these books, they are worth a fortune!” He batted his eyelashes sweetly, making Bilbo huff heatedly in response.

“Just get on with some research, will you!”

Kili flipped through the book, quiet falling over the room once more.

“…Was that book meant for Uncle?”

“Alright, that is _quite enough_!” Bilbo stormed out of his bed, opening the door dramatically. “You will help, or leave immediately!”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Bilbo, I was just joking! Please, let’s just get through these books, shall we?”

Bilbo sighed exasperatedly and nodded, closing the door and returning to his seat. “You will never mention that book again, agreed?”

“Yes, yes…”

“ _Especially_ to Thorin.” Bilbo insisted, finger shaking threateningly at the amused Dwarf.

“Of course.”

Someone knocked on the door, making Bilbo sigh for what he felt was the hundredth time that day. “And who can that be, _now_.” He muttered indignantly, and marched over to the door and yanked it open. Fili smiled apologetically in the doorway.

“Bilbo, have you seen Kili?” He inquired, leaning into the room to look behind the disgruntled Hobbit. “Aah, fantastic.” He strolled inside, ignoring the irritated noises the Hobbit was making behind him.

“Or, you could just, I don’t know, _wait for me to invite you in_?” Bilbo accused, hands on hips.

Fili grinned towards him, arms crossed and now leaning against the post of the bed closest to Kili. “What has got you so bothered today, Bilbo?”

“Your meddling brother, that’s what!”

Kili and Fili chuckled, and shared a look that Bilbo knew meant _trouble_.

Fili beckoned animatedly for Bilbo to sit, and perched himself next to Kili on the bed. “This is really about Uncle, isn’t it?”

Bilbo groaned loudly, Thorin being the last topic of conversation he wished to discuss with the two meddling nephews. “No, it _really isn’t_ , and I am rather fed up with everyone thinking it’s always about that block-headed Dwarf!”

Utterly unmoved by Bilbo’s words, Fili shared another scheming look with his brother. “You know, we could talk to him? Maybe even… _encourage_ him towards some ale, if it would loosen his tongue-”

“Absolutely not!” Bilbo interrupted, now fuming. “You will not get Thorin drunk so you can talk about _what you think_ is going on between us!” He pointed at them both in turn, threateningly. “And _nothing_ is going on, I might add!”

Fili and Kili nodded, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Of course, Bilbo. We meant to only mend your friendship!” Kili added, attempting to display his most genuine smile, which Bilbo saw right through.

“You will _not_ interfere! If Thorin is angry with me, he will remain that way until he sees fit.”

“As you wish, Bilbo.” Fili turned to Kili, and nodded towards the door. “Well, it has been great catching up, but I fear my useless brother has forgotten he has sparring practice with myself and Dwalin.”

Kili turned to Bilbo, smiling apologetically. “Duty calls! I will see you later, Bilbo.”

Bilbo nodded at them both, relieved that the scheming had come to an end. “Yes, yes, off you both go. Dwalin doesn’t like to wait.”

Fili laughed, patting his brother on the back heavily. “It is Kili who will have to endure the wrath of Dwalin, not I.” Kili wilted noticeably, offering a pained look towards the Hobbit.

He chuckled and shooed them out, closing the door behind them.

“Finally, some peace and quiet!” He mumbled to himself, returning to his inspection of the book. “Now, where was I up to…”

 

 

\---

 

 

Thorin sat his desk, re-reading the same sentence for the fifth time. He groaned and rubbed his face roughly, leaning back in his chair. Paperwork had never been his forte, no matter how hard he tried. The mines were back up and running, but now everything had to be counted and organized, all the plans checked and approved by him. He stood and began pacing the room, rolling his shoulders tiredly, trying to get into a more alert mindset.

“You know you never get any work done when you’re like this, Indâd.”

Thorin spun around and was greeted by Fili’s impish grin.

“And how long have you been standing there, may I ask?”

Fili shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Long enough to know that you won’t get any good work done, and that you could use a rest.”

Thorin sighed and nodded, gesturing for Fili to join him at the table. “It is getting late, the reports can wait for now.”

“That’s the spirit, but we are missing something, Indâd…”

Kili burst in, grinning eagerly, balancing three pitchers in one arm, a small barrel of ale tucked under the other.

“Absolutely not.”

The brothers looked at each other, eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Sorry, Indâd, but you do not have a choice.”

 

 

\---

 

 

This was a huge mistake. Thorin had lost count of how many pints he had emptied, and the room had begun to spin slightly.

“So, Indâd, what was that fight with Bilbo last night all about?”

_Fantastic._

Thorin steeled himself and tried to sit up straight and glare at his nephews, but to no avail. He ended up slipping back down in his chair, earning a stifled chuckle from Fili and Kili. “None-none of your business, you meddlesome brats.”

Fili and Kili amusedly looked at each other.

“Oh come on, Indâd. You can trust us, we’re family.” Kili urged.

“It does not concern you.” He waved nonchalantly, trying to regain his composure. “What did you put in that _ale_ , oh Mahal.”

“Nori gave it to us, said it was one of his _special blends_.” Fili replied, finishing his ale in one gulp.

Thorin groaned. “If we get raided at dawn and I am unable to get out of bed, the kingdom being overrun will be on _both_ your heads.”

“Not to worry, Indâd. I doubt having _one_ night off will cause Erebor to fall.” Kili chuckled, filling Fili’s mug.

“Mahal, I swear to you, I will _hide_ if someone calls for me tonight. You two can deal with them, especially if it is Balin.” Fili and Kili sniggered, imagining the ridiculous scenario of Thorin wobbling over and hiding under his bed in all his kingly garb.

“Not to worry, we’ll ensure you don’t get disturbed tonight.” Kili assured, winking at Fili conspiratorially. Fili quieted and furrowed his brow, obviously trying to word a question.

“Just spit it out, Fili.” Thorin insisted.

Fili looked hesitantly at Kili, who nodded in encouragement. “We worry about you and Bilbo, Indâd-” Thorin shot him a chilling look, which he ignored. “No, really. What happened?”

“I… discovered what he was up to yesterday. It was none of my business.”

Kili gazed at him incredulously. “What, he told you where he went! But he told me-” Kili clamped his hand on his mouth, well aware he had said too much, the ale loosening his tongue. Much to his dismay, the ale had not dulled Thorin’s wits.

Thorin stilled, squinting his eyes at Kili. “Wh-What did he tell you?!” Kili shook his head, hand still grasping his lips. “Speak!”

Kili gulped. “That he had… tea with someone.”

Thorin let out a single, mirthless bark of laughter. “Yes, _tea_. I’m sure it was only _t-tea_.”

Kili shook his head frantically, well aware that he was making everything _much_ worse. “No, it really was, he led me there-”

“What! So you met the cad!” Thorin wobbled upwards, leaning forward on the table for support.

Kili was thoroughly confused now. “What? No. I-I mean. Wait... Why do _you_ care who Bilbo spends time with?”

Thorin groaned and sat ungracefully back down, distracted by the inquiry. “I do not _care_ , you mistook my words.” He attempted to shift his expression into one of nonchalance, but ended up with a grimace instead.

Fili grinned widely at Thorin, grabbed his pitcher and refilled it, then slid it along the table, towards his Uncle. “Please, tell us more how we are _mistaking_ your intentions towards Bilbo.”

He took the mug mistrustingly and took a long sip, eyeing his smiling nephews in turn. “You are both too much like your mother.” They guffawed in response, only increasing Thorin’s irritation.

Unexpectedly, Bilbo bounded in, hair askew. He froze at the sight, taking in the view of a wobbling Thorin and his two chuckling nephews, obviously all deep into their drink.

“Ah, Thorin, sorry to interrupt, but your, ah, sister is looking for you… apparently she has been storming through the Throne Room, calling out.”

Thorin’s eyes bulged wide, mid-sip, and sprayed his nephews with a light shower of ale. They both howled indignantly in protest, wiping their faces.

“Ah, Thorin! Really? She isn’t that scary-” Bilbo was silenced mid-sentence by Kili’s hand over his mouth, the Dwarf now by his side.

“Thorin?” Fili whispered, standing now by the closed door.

“Now, we hide!” Thorin dove forward, grabbing Fili by the elbow, making towards the wardrobe wobbily.

“What! Thorin-” The Hobbit was interrupted again, Kili now pushing him forward, giggling quietly.

Thorin pulled Fili inside and grabbed Kili by the scruff of his neck, who was still attached to the resisting Hobbit. The wardrobe door was closed, confining them all inside.

Bilbo slammed his eyes shut, and waited.

 

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Lovelies!
> 
> Yeah, so, Drunk!Thorin happened... whoops.  
> And poor Kili, he just can't resist those tall beauties.
> 
> As I mentioned previously, this fic is currently un-beta'd, so apologies if I miss anything.
> 
> Badgers ahead!  
> Berunien


	6. Durin's heart and Durin's bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo shares some tea and cakes, and makes some new friends... Surprisingly, Thorin manages to offend every single one of them.

“Get back!” Kili whispered, pushing Thorin and Fili towards the rear of the wardrobe.

“Ah! You’re on my foot!” Fili hissed agitatedly, pushing back onto his brother.

“I’m not on your accursed foot!”

Thorin grabbed Fili’s collar and pulled backwards. “Will you stop shoving each other!” He underestimated his own strength, and they both flew backwards.

Bilbo winced as he heard the all-too-recognisable crunching noise of two bodies falling in snow. He looked at Kili. “Well, this definitely saves us a lot of explaining.”

Kili giggled and walked over to his brother, pulling him out of the snow by his collar. He then went to aid Thorin, but he refused all help, swayed to his feet, and had to subsequently lean against a tree to make up for his lack of balance.

Bilbo grabbed a coat for each of them and handed them out, very aware that the ale in their veins was numbing the cold. “Come, put these on, you don’t want to freeze out here.” Fili and Thorin took the coats silently, only then grasping the concept of being in another land. They stared around the forest, wide eyed, making Bilbo and Kili have to stifle a round of giggles.  
  
“Impossible.” Thorin declared breathlessly.

“Goodness, I hope I didn’t look that _ridiculous_ when I first stumbled in here.”

Thorin stared at him incredulously. “Do you mean to say, that this is not the first time you’ve been through my wardrobe?”

Bilbo smiled bashfully, staring at his feet. “I may have been here… twice before. But-”

“Twice!” Thorin interjected, pacing heavily towards the Hobbit. “An-And when, _dear Hobbit_ , were you going to inform me of this discovery!?” He loomed over Bilbo, poking him in the chest accusingly, still wobbling slightly under the influence of the ale.

“As soon as I knew what was going on?” He smiled apologetically, taking a small step backwards, out of the reach of Thorin’s bruising jabs.

“We swear, Indâd.” Kili walked forward, nodding enthusiastically. “We started doing some research, found some _strange books_ , and-”

“What! You too! Did the _whole of Erebor_ know about this place before me?!” Thorin interrupted again, now glaring down at his nephew.

“Just us, Thorin. I first came here yesterday, when I disappeared for those two hours…” He trailed off, awaiting Thorin’s outburst.

Thorin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself. “So, when you said that you couldn’t tell me what happened, you meant-”

“Yes, Thorin.” He interrupted. “I came here, but didn’t know how to explain it to you without sounding like I had _lost my mind_.”

Thorin pressed closer, the stench of his horrid ale-soaked breath reaching the poor Hobbit’s nostrils. “And that _someone_ you had tea with?”

Bilbo laughed nervously, rather uncomfortable with the close proximity to a swaying, drunk King. “A faun, Mr Tumnus… and it was all perfectly respectable, I assure you.”

“A… faun?”

He laughed awkwardly. “Yes, they’re a rather peaceful race from what I gather so far. They have the chest, arms and head of a man; and the legs of a goat-”

“A _goat_!?”

Bilbo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose impatiently. “Yes, Thorin. _A goat_. I suspect that there will be other new creatures and races we shall meet in these lands... so stop gaping rudely and pull yourself together for Eru’s sake!”

Thorin was still in disbelief. “And these _fauns_ -” He wrinkled his nose objectively at the word. “…enjoy tea and cakes?”

“They’re not barbarians, Thorin.” He exhaled roughly, rubbing his face tiredly. “We really need to get some _tea and cakes_ into you, and un-cloud your head.”

“Is that… _faun_ nearby?” Fili piped in, also unsure of the new term.

Bilbo grinned excitedly. “Oh yes! He has the most inviting home!” He gestured for them to follow, but Kili remained standing, staring intently towards two hills, far off on the horizon.

Fili used his brother’s diverted attention to his advantage, leant down slowly and quickly made a snowball, swiftly firing it at his brother’s back.

“Hey! Watch it!” He grinned cheekily and returned the favour, clocking Fili right on the jaw.

Thorin let out a loud bark of laughter at Fili’s spluttering and earned himself two snowballs to the chest, courtesy of both nephews.

The three Durins engaged in a vigorous round of snowball fighting, which Bilbo wished no part of, the fight ending only when Thorin ran blindly backwards to avoid a throw from Kili, and ran into Bilbo, full speed.

Bilbo winced in pain as the large Dwarf collided with him and pushed him backwards into the snow; Thorin ending up with his head in the small Hobbit’s lap.

He looked up and smiled at Bilbo warmly. “My apologies, Bilbo. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Bilbo blushed. “N-No, you’re quite alright, lucky for you I landed in a large pile of snow.”

Thorin chuckled, Bilbo’s legs sinking deeper in the snow from the shaking movement of Thorin’s broad shoulders. Thorin tried to get up, only making it a few inches, flailed aimlessly and collapsed heavily back into Bilbo’s lap, head resting on his thigh.

He looked up sheepishly at Bilbo. “I am afraid that _toxic_ ale of Nori’s has affected my ability to stand up.”

Fili and Kili howled with laughter, Thorin’s display apparently the most amusing thing they had ever seen. Thorin turned his head sharply to lecture them in turn, but Bilbo stilled his head with both hands, cringing. “Just be careful there, Thorin. You’re rather close to something… delicate of mine.” Thorin was absolutely mortified; his cheeks reddening and eyes widening in embarrassment.

Fili and Kili lost it at that, and started rolling in the snow laughing so hard that they began tearing up, not able to breathe.

Bilbo smiled sheepishly down at Thorin, his head still in Bilbo’s palms. “Not to worry, Thorin. Just saving you from getting kneed sharply in the back.”

Thorin ungracefully attempted to heave himself up again, but Bilbo pulled him back down into his lap, hands now resting in his hair, cradling his head. “Just rest for a moment, yes?” He paused awkwardly. “Ju-Just until your balance comes back, of course.” He added hastily, trying to sound confident.

Thorin grumbled in response, but stilled.

Bilbo was suddenly intensely aware that Thorin’s soft hair was now intimately entwined around his fingers. He blushed deeply and stared awkwardly to the side, pretending to examine the snow carefully. Thorin raised an eyebrow and looked up at him.

“Everything all right, Bilbo?” He asked, grin widening.

“Yes-Yes, of course.” He spluttered, avoiding his eyes.

Thorin sighed and settled more comfortably in Bilbo’s lap, head steered carefully by the Hobbit’s hands. “Are you sure you are comfortable with this? If I am crushing you, I can roll to the side and lay in the snow.”

Bilbo coughed nervously, raising one hand to stifle it. He placed it back to its original place and mistakenly stroked Thorin’s hair softly on the way down. He froze. Luckily, Thorin didn’t seem to notice, his eyes were now closed and he was humming good-naturedly.

“It’s fine, not to worry.”

“My thanks, Bilbo.”

Fili and Kili strolled over coyly grinning, their composure regained.

“Do I get my hair played with too, Bilbo?” Kili teased, sitting in the snow closely to Bilbo.

Fili sat down on Bilbo’s other side ungracefully, hitting his head on a low branch. “Ow! Yeah, Bilbo. Where’s my soft headrest?”

Thorin opened his eyes and carefully glared at them both. “This is just until I can stand, a state which _both of you_ put me in.”

Fili scoffed. “Maybe we should go back, if you are in such a fragile state?”

“Never mind that, shouldn’t we at least take a look around?” Kili asked, far too eagerly.

Thorin sighed and looked over at his nephew. “Bilbo will decide.”

“Uh… I’d like you all to meet Mr Tumnus, I’m sure he has a strong tea that will set Thorin straight.”

Thorin harrumphed indignantly, but nodded. “Well, then Mr Tumnus it is-”

“When you can _walk_ , Thorin.”

 

 

\---

 

 

A short while later, the Durins found themselves being eagerly led by the excitable Hobbit, who was now pointing out species of trees that Tumnus had showed him, and babbling on about what Tumnus was like.

“…lots and lots of lovely food, and we’ll have plenty of….” Bilbo rounded the corner and faltered, voice failing.

Tumnus’ door had been barged open, and the room that lay within was pitch black.

Thorin squinted at the scene warily. “Bilbo?...”

Bilbo gasped and sprinted ahead, ignoring the calls from the Dwarves, urging him to return. Thorin ran after him, his nephews in tow.

He burst into the room and looked around, the house had been viciously torn apart. There was snow trodden through the rooms, the furniture had been ripped and thrown about; and the house had been thoroughly ransacked.

The three Dwarves entered the room hesitantly, senses on high alert, prepared for an attack. Thorin knelt slowly and picked up a long piece of wood and kept it by his side, suddenly awfully aware that he was unarmed. Bilbo quietly paced the room, clearly distraught.

“Who would do such a thing?” He mumbled quietly to himself, absentmindedly kicking the shards of an all-too-familiar teacup.

Thorin walked over to a pillar by the door, and ripped off a piece of parchment that had been pinned there with a large, rusty nail.

He cleared his throat, and the note aloud. “The faun Tumnus is hereby charged with high treason against Her Imperial Majesty, Jadis, Queen of Narnia, for aiding her enemies and associating with Durin’s allies. Signed Maugrim, captain of the Royal Guard… Long Live the Queen.” He looked up at Bilbo, who had turned white as a sheet.

Fili reached forward and tore it out of Thorin’s hands, examining it further. “All right. Now we should really go back.”

“But what about Mr Tumnus!” Bilbo protested loudly, making Thorin rub his aching temples in protest.

“If he was arrested just for _being with_ an ally of Durin, I don’t think there’s much we can do.” Fili replied hesitantly, re-reading the parchment.

“You don’t understand, do you?” Bilbo looked them all in the eye sadly. “ _I’m the ally_. She must have found out somehow that I’ve been here before, and he helped me.”

“Don’t worry, Bilbo. We’ll think of something.” Thorin clapped a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm the fretting Hobbit.

“Why?” Kili asked huffily, causing them to turn and look at him confusedly. “I mean, he’s a lawbreaker.”

“I don’t need to listen to this, you three try find some clues. I am going to get some much needed fresh air.” Bilbo stormed outside, and took in a deep breath. The clearing was eerily quiet, and it chilled him to the bone.

“Psst-”

Bilbo whirled around, searching for the source of the noise. He looked across the clearing to a small bird, chirping away happily on a tree branch.

“Did that bird just _‘Psst’_ me?” He mumbled to himself quietly, pacing closer slowly. He startled the bird and it flew off, so he just shrugged it off and continued walking. After taking a few steps he heard a tree branch snap, and froze. He squinted his eyes and crouched, taking another cautious step forward. Bilbo turned his head just in time to see a large chestnut-brown beaver, nearly as tall as himself, skittishly approach him, sniffing the air cautiously every few steps.

“Oh my, you’re a well fed beaver, aren’t you?” He chuckled and leant forward with his arm outstretched. “Come on, now. Nothing to be afraid of here.”

Thorin sauntered out into the clearing, unaware of the new furry friend. “Bilbo, what in Mahal’s name are you-” He halted mid sentence, and stared anxiously at the interaction taking place. “Bilbo, just walk backward slowly towards me…”

“It’s quite alright Thorin, I assure you.” Bilbo crouched slightly, smiling and gesturing amusedly for the beaver to come even closer.

“Bilbo, _please_ , step away from that feral beast.” Thorin pleaded, as Fili and Kili ran out and stood anxiously at their uncle’s side.

The beaver stood on its hind legs and shot a surprisingly _outraged_ look at Thorin, its eyes burning.

“ _Feral beast!_ Indeed. Those furs of yours have seen better days, you impolite Dwarf.” The beaver turned to gaze up at Bilbo, who was now thoroughly stupefied. “Why does a nice lad like yourself keep such bad-mannered company!”

Bilbo was thoroughly stunned, the beaver had a surprisingly masculine and gravely voice, with a hint of cheekiness. The Hobbit turned to grin wildly at the dumbfounded Dwarves behind him, chuckling contently. “You’ll be lucky if you never have to share a meal with them, I tell you. _Absolute_ chaos.”

The three Dwarves groaned in protest, only broadening the Hobbit’s grin.

“Bilbo Baggins?”

The Hobbit’s chuckling halted, and he nodded. “Yes?” The beaver moved closer, raising a familiar olive green handkerchief, with ‘BB’ monogramed in gold stitching. He took it from the beaver and stared at it sadly. “…This is the handkerchief I gave to Mr Tumn-”

“Tumnus, yes. I was lucky enough to get it in time, before the Witch’s Guards snatched him away.”

“Is he hurt?”

The beaver glanced nervously around the clearing, gesturing Bilbo to follow. “Not out here, it’s too open. Come further in.”

Bilbo nodded and started walking, but was abruptly halted by Thorin grabbing his shoulder.

“What in _Mahal’s name_ are you doing?” He accused, brow furrowed.

“He’s right, how do we know we can trust that thing?” Kili added, watching the beaver hesitantly.

Fili strode in, gesturing over towards the creature. “Well, he says he knows the faun…”

“He’s a _Beaver_. He shouldn’t be saying anything!” Thorin glared at them all incredulously. “Why are you all so calm about the fact that there is a _speaking beaver_?!”

“He seems nice.” Fili voiced amusedly, grinning at them all.

“Nice for a _talking beaver_. It could be enchanted, made to appear approachable, and lure travellers to their death.” Thorin’s voice started to rise, his grip tightening on Bilbo’s shoulder unconsciously.

Bilbo scoffed and looked up at Thorin in disbelief. “A magical beaver, _oh Thorin_. That is absolutely preposterous.”

The beaver popped up from behind a mound of snow, startling Bilbo, causing him to yelp and take a step back. “Everything all right here, lads?”

Bilbo clutched his heart and laughed at himself, then turned to smile at the brown animal. “Yes, sorry. We were just talking something through...”

“Like I said, _not here._ It’s not the safest place to talk.” The beaver whispered in return, gesturing agitatedly for them to follow.

“He means the trees.” The Hobbit explained, staring up cautiously at the flora surrounding them.

Fili turned and gave a concerned look to Kili, both clearly thinking the Hobbit had lost his mind.

Bilbo groaned exasperatedly, shrugged his shoulder out of Thorin’s grasp and bounded towards the beaver, the Dwarves pursuing him after sharing an irritated eye-roll.

“You Dwarves need to be more trusting!” He called behind himself, trailing behind the beaver around a cluster of trees and out of Thorin’s sight.

“Come on, you heavy footed Dwarves! Trust me, we don’t want to still be out here when the sun goes down.” The Badger warned, spurring them on faster.

 

 

\---

 

 

The troupe passed through an old stone archway, and were met with the charming sight of the beaver’s dam, down below the rocky hillside on which they were standing. It was circular, assembled from countless sticks and branches, blanketed in snow, and had a quaint chimney place that was spouting smoke.

“Oh fantastic, it appears the Missus has put the kettle on. A nice cup o’ tea would do the job quite nicely.”

Bilbo warmed at the sight of the picturesque home. “It’s lovely.”

The beaver waved the complement away humbly. “It’s not that impressive, ain’t even finished yet… It’ll look the business when it is, though.”

They ambled through the deep snow and reached the edge of the wooden gate, pulling their coats closer in the chill.

“Beaver, love, is that you?” A feminine voice called out of the open front door, upbeat and welcoming “I’ve been worried sick! If I find you’ve been out with Badger again, I…” The voice trailed off as female beaver padded out of the dam and spotted her unexpected guests. “Well, those most definitely aren’t badgers!” She hobbled closer excitedly, and stood next to Beaver.

The four strangers looked at each other amusedly, unsure what was going on.

The female badger fussed with her fur, running her paws over her face. “Look at my fur!” She shot a look of distain to her mate. “You couldn’t have given me any warning?”

He chuckled at her fondly. “I’d have given you a week if I thought it would’ve helped.”

“Oh, come inside! And we’ll see if we can’t get you some food…” She shot a mischievous look at Mr Beaver. “…and some _civilised_ company.”

He chortled and beckoned for them to enter. “Now careful, watch your step.”

Bilbo, Thorin and Fili climbed inside, listening politely to Mrs Beaver fussing over the non-existent mess, where to sit and what they wanted for tea. Kili remained outside, staring fixatedly at two rather distinguishable hills, now much closer than before in the distance.

“Everything all right there, lad? Fancy the view?” Mr Beaver interrupted harshly, awakening Kili from his daze.

He shook his head and looked down the Beaver, shrugging indifferently, and then climbed inside after his companions.

They were all nestled comfortably around the table in the warm-lit room, a small candelabra hanging from the ceiling above. All of the furnishings were made of wood, lovingly crafted for the Beaver’s cosy home. Kili walked past them uninterestedly and opted to sit on a small staircase alone, behind everyone.

Bilbo was fussing around the kitchen with Mrs Beaver and pouring tea, whilst Thorin uneasily eyed the unusual domestic scene that was unfolding before him.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, Bilbo, you’re not a Dwarf are you?” Mr Beaver enquired, making Fili choke on his tea, caught off-guard.

Bilbo blushed and continued fussing about the kitchen with Mrs Beaver, trying to distract himself from the heavy gaze Thorin was sending his way. “Ah, no… A Hobbit, actually.”

“A _Hobbit_ , right…” The beaver leant back in his chair, mulling it over.

He chuckled softly at the amusing view. _A beaver stroking his chin thoughtfully,_ _really_? His father would have had a heart attack at the sight, it was utterly ridiculous. “We’re a simple folk, us Hobbits. Shorter than most Dwarves, thick soles, hairy feet, curly hair… but the way to a Hobbit’s heart is through his _stomach_ , most definitely.”

Mrs Beaver giggled, utterly charmed by the Hobbit. “You’ll get along with Beaver famously, then. The first time I cooked him my signature fish tart, _oh_ , the poor lad was mine for the taking.” She waddled over and petted his stomach cheekily, earning herself a swatted hand.

“Are there any Dwarves here?” Fili asked, his choking had subsided.

The beavers shot each other a hesitant glance. “There are, but they are not anywhere near the likes of you. Most of them, especially the Black Dwarves, are allied with the White Witch.” Mr Beaver hesitated. “Those traitors… they’re cruel, violent folk, who are drawn to darkness.”

Bilbo shot a hesitant look at his three Dwarf companions. “Will we have any troubles passing through, will everyone think they’re dangerous?”

Mrs Beaver laughed lightly. “I don’t think so, dear. Your friends are much more… regal than the Dwarves that live in Narnia. None of the Dwarves here have fancy embroidered robes or ornamental leatherwork.”

Thorin huffed proudly, leaning back into his chair. “Erebor has the most skilful craftsmen, we have never been bettered.”

“You must be very proud of them all, spending all that time stitching detail into that fine tunic of yours.” Mrs Beaver walked over to the kitchen and retrieved some more cakes, noticing Thorin’s small smile.

Bilbo laughed fondly at Mrs Beaver’s fussing, and shot a quick gaze at Thorin, who was staring right back.

_Oh what a mistake, you foolish Hobbit. All right, just blink and look over at the table carefully, yes, don’t blush now…_

“Lost in your thoughts, lad?”

He grasped for straws, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“Ah, Isn’t there anything we can do for Mr Tumnus?” Bilbo asked, walking over and filling Mr Beaver’s cup with tea.

“The Witch will have him now... You know what they say, there’s few that go through them gates that come out again.”

“But there is hope, dear.” Mrs Beaver added, patting Bilbo comfortingly on the back.

“Oh, yeah, far more than just hope!” He glanced hesitantly around the room, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Aslan is on the move.” He added sombrely, almost whispering.

Kili stood up, and ambled forward. “Who’s Aslan?”

Mr Beaver laughed heartily and turned to his mate. “ _Who’s Aslan_ , honestly. This Dwarf has got a good sense of humour.” He turned to face his guests, who were all staring at him, thoroughly puzzled. “Oh… you don’t know, do you?”

Thorin glared at the beaver distastefully. “Well, Master Beaver, we haven’t exactly been here long.”

“Well, he’s only King of the _realm_ , the true ruler, the real King of Narnia!”

Kili looked at him begrudgingly and sat back down, unimpressed.

“He’s been away for many years, but he just returned!” Mr Beaver added, excitedly waving. “And he’s waiting you all near the Stone Table!”

“Why would he be waiting for us?” Bilbo asked disbelievingly.

The beaver leapt up in his chair. “You’ve got to be joking!” He turned to his mate exasperatedly. “ _They don’t even know about the prophecy!”_

She smiled at him and nodded sideways towards their perplexed guests. “Well, spit it out then…”

“Listen, Aslan’s return, Tumnus’ incarceration, the royal guard arrests, it’s all happening because you entered Narnia!”

Fili leant back in his chair, crossing his arms. “And we are at fault?”  
  
Mr Beaver shook his head, chuckling. “You’re not at _fault_ , you’re being thanked…” He took a sobering breath, and stared at each of them in turn. “Look, there is a prophecy that has been whispered around Narnia since the winter started… _When Durin’s heart and Durin’s bone sits at Cair Paravel in Throne, the reign of evil will be over and done_.”

Bilbo spluttered frustratedly. “Yes, my dear Beaver, but I don’t see how I fall into this?” The two beavers looked at each other nervously. “I’m a Baggins, not a Durin, _this is ridiculous_.”

“You’re missing the point, dear.” Mrs Beaver cooed. “The prophecy states that when four sit on the throne, of Durin’s heart or Durin’s blood, the White Witch will fall and peace will reign in Narnia again!”

“And I am currently _neither of those!_ ” The Hobbit waved indignantly, unaware of how Thorin had suddenly stilled, gulping dryly.

“More importantly, you think we’re the ones from the prophecy?” Fili inquired, subtly kicking Thorin to bring him out of his incoming brooding.

Mrs Beaver tapped him on the hand companionably. “Well, dear, you had better be, your army is currently being assembled by Aslan.”

“Our Army!?” Bilbo choked on his mouthful of tea, Thorin having to pat him heavily on his back to aid his breathing.

“We have only endured peace for a over a year in Erebor, what makes you think we are so eager to dive headfirst into more bloodshed?” Thorin inquired dryly.

“Well, because we need you to. _And_ we have no other options.” Mr Beaver replied coolly, staring Thorin down.

“You have made a mistake, _beast_.” He spat out the word insultingly, crossing his arms smugly.

Bilbo lunged out of his chair smacking Thorin solidly in the shoulder. “Now, _what_ did I say about using that ghastly term! How _dare_ you be so rude to our hosts who have sheltered us from the cold and filled our stomachs!”

Thorin maintained eye contact, unyielding. “I will not abandon Erebor to save some _beavers_ from a long winter!”

Bilbo stared at him astoundedly, utterly flabbergasted. “Thorin, this whole kingdom is inhabited, it is not some wasteland! There are thousands of lives at stake!”

“I do not know these creatures, I owe them no loyalty!”

“ _Thorin Oakenshield_ , have you really lost all your compassion?”

Thorin rolled his eyes dramatically. “We have been away from Erebor too long.” He rose to his feet, obnoxiously sliding the chair loudly behind himself. “Thank you for your hospitality.” He spat out bitterly, bowing curtly at the beavers.

 

“Uh, Indâd… where’s Kili?”

 

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Lovelies!
> 
> Poor Thorin, you really need to reign that drunkenness in, yeah?  
> I kind of fell in love with Mrs Beaver, I have Una Stubb's voice in my head when I write her...
> 
> As aforementioned, this is my first fic and still un beta'd, I apologise if I have missed any mistakes.
> 
> Foxxy adventures ahead!  
> Berunien


	7. Hazy dreams of musk and metal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chased by wolves, the companions find themselves in an eerie clearing.  
> Bilbo has some hazy dreams, Thorin comes over for a cuddle, and the group makes a new friend.
> 
> But by Mahal, does Bilbo need to learn to reel in those dreams of his!

** Possible content warning for chapter ahead, non-fatal animal-vs-animal scene**

**Also, smut ahead… you have been warned**

 

\---

 

Thorin stilled, eyes searching the room frantically. He rushed over to the door and poked his head out, seeing deep footsteps in the snow, leading away. “That foolish lad. I’ll throttle him, Mahal’s beard, I truly will.”

Beaver walked over, gently tugging Thorin’s elbow back inside, closing the door behind them. “I don’t think you’ll have to.”

Thorin glared down at the brown creature. “Explain, _beast_.” He spat out accusingly.

Bilbo stormed over and poked Thorin heavily in his ribs. “ _Really_ , Thorin! I thought I had made it perfectly clear that you were not to treat Beaver so rudely!” He glared up at Thorin pointedly, his short stature not inhibiting his intense gaze one iota. 

Mrs Beaver tutted from where she was sitting at the table. “I wouldn’t try teaching Dwarves manners, sweets. You’ll just end up giving yourself a headache.” She walked over and pulled Bilbo back towards the table, Thorin’s eyes burning into the back of their heads. “We’ve been called worse, dear. Never you mind." 

Fili groaned awkwardly, very aware of Thorin’s increasing bad mood. “Can we please stop arguing over manners and get back to the task at hand?” He shot an accusing look at his Uncle, who nodded tiredly and sat on the steps quietly. “Master Beaver, what did you mean?”

“Has Kili been to Narnia before?”

Fili winced in response, noticing Thorin’s eyes widen in realization.

“Once before, yes. But I didn’t run into him until much late-” Bilbo began explaining and was interrupted by Thorin loudly bursting outside, causing the Dam’s remaining occupants to rush into the night air after him.

They trailed Thorin as fast as they could, Bilbo bringing up the rear, tripping on the ends of his long coat. “Thorin! Wait!” He called out to no avail, huffing heavily from the sharp intakes of crisp, winter air.

Thorin continued sprinting ahead, and stopped at the edge of a cliff, squinting keenly to search for the silhouette of his nephew. Far ahead, over an ice plateau, stood a magnificent frozen castle, made entirely of ice. Its spires towered over the clearing, pointed sharply at the ends, painting an altogether terrifying façade. It loomed over the landscape, glowing menacingly, filling it with cold blue light.

He crouched, squinting keenly, and made out a black speck in the distance, walking up the steps towards the entrance to the stronghold. Thorin barked out Kili’s name urgently and started inspecting the side of the cliff frantically, finally spotting a precarious staircase hewn from the snowy stone face. He started running towards it, his target in sight.

In the nick of time, Bilbo caught up and tackled the Dwarf to the ground, landing on his back, arms wrapped around Thorin’s broad shoulders. “Thorin! You fool, do you want to get caught!” He whispered urgently as Thorin roared in response, pushing the Hobbit off his back.

“Stop! You’re falling right into the Witch’s trap.” Beaver barked accusingly at the Dwarf, who was now brushing snow off his front, glaring daggers down at him. “Do you really want to get captured too, you thick-headed Dwarf!”

“Kili-” Fili yelled across the clearing, Bilbo’s hand muffling his mouth.

“Honestly, you two. _You’ll get us all killed!”_ Bilbo tutted, slowly releasing his hand from Fili’s mouth.

“We can’t just stand here!” He whispered urgently, gesturing wildly towards his brother’s shrinking silhouette.

“And what will bursting into the castle do, hah? You’ll all get captured and Narnia will be done for!” Beaver sighed, the stupidness of Dwarves getting to him.

“The fate of Narnia does not concern me, I only care about bringing Kili home!” Thorin hissed, crossing his arms huffily.

Badger shook his head. “Never mind that, there’s a bigger scheme playing out right now. Kili’s the bait! Don’t you see?”

“We can’t just let him run off.” Fili muttered angrily, eyes not leaving Kili’s speck in the distance. His brother had now entered the castle, he was gone.

“We can, and we will. If the Witch catches all of ‘ya, the prophecy will never come true.” Beaver walked over to Fili, patting his elbow soothingly. “I know you worry about your brother, but he’s made his choice.”

Fili laughed mirthlessly. “This would have never happened if _you_ hadn’t been pushing him so hard lately.” He shot a heated look at Thorin accusingly. “You know how much he was hating all those lessons, your pointless sessions in the library… Now he’s been bewitched by some ice-crazy _woman._ ”

“You will not lecture me how to tutor my own nephew.” He replied warningly, glowering down at Fili. 

“We should have left when we had the chance!” He whispered furiously and took at step closer, chest now bumping Thorin’s.

Bilbo dashed forward, grabbing both their shoulders. “Stop this! Bickering won’t help anything, you block-headed Dwarves!” They paid him no mind, eyes still shooting daggers at each other.

“He’s right.” Badger’s voice carried over the clearing harshly, shaking the Dwarves out of their staring match. “Only Aslan can save your nephew now.” 

Thorin stared down at the Beaver icily. “Then take us to him.”

 

 

\---

 

  

Kili tiptoed cautiously around the silent courtyard, senses heightened by the stillness of his surroundings. All around him were snow-covered statues, beyond count, all seemingly frozen mid-scream. It unnerved him, making him pull his coat closer to try to ward off the chill.

He turned a corner and yelped, muffling the sound with his hands. He was face to face with a creature he had never seen before, half eagle and half lion. Kili chucked to himself, realising how ridiculous he must have seemed, shrieking at a statue, and kicked its front paw casually. 

He continued towards the vast front door to the castle, observing the creatures that surrounded him. Most of the creatures he recognised, like woodland creatures and trolls, but others were completely alien to him. Looming over the courtyard was a giant man, with only one eye. He stared up, dumbfounded, and walked backwards into a wolf statue. 

Only, it was no statue.

The wolf pounced on the young Dwarf, growling menacingly. “Who dares to enter the kingdom of the White Queen?” He snarled, spittle flying in Kili’s face. “Speak!” 

“I-I’m Kili, the Queen sent me!” The wolf snarled, its fangs closing in. “I’m a son of Durin!” 

The wolf stilled, and released Kili, bowing its head. “Apologies, son of Durin.”

Kili stood up shakingly, trying to come to terms with the fact that a giant wolf was apologising to him. “Ah, no problem, really.”

“I’m Maugrim, Captain of the Royal Guard.” He sniffed, gesturing his head towards the open doors. “Follow me.” 

He followed the wolf into the cavernous entrance to the castle, its throne room ceiling decorated with countless icy stalactites. Kili wandered about behind the wolf, taking in the architectonic frozen sculptures, and multi-faceted ice columns.

Maugrim halted in front of a large throne, a flight of steps carved into the front of the towering ice structure. “Wait here.” He padded out of the room, leaving Kili alone.

He looked around vigilantly, ensuring he was indeed alone. As soon as he was sure, he creeped up the staircase and sat comfortably in the throne, surrounded by the white fur that was haphazardly thrown across it. He slumped down, breathing out contentedly.

“Enjoying the view, son of Durin?” The White Witch emerged from the shadows, surprising Kili, who let out an undignified yelp. She walked aside the throne, smiling sweetly down at him as he jumped out of the seat.

“Yes, Majesty.”

She sat down slowly, eyeing him keenly. “Thought you might.” The Witch leant back in her chair, propping one hand under her chin. “Tell me, Kili, has your uncle lost power over his legs?”

Kili laughed uncertainly, unsure what was going on. “Uh, no?”

“Or your friend Bilbo, is he bed-bound, unable to move?”

“…no?” He frowned.

“And tell me, is your brother a half-wit?”

Kili chuckled, staring at his feet. “Well, nobody in Erebor thinks so, but I-”

“-Then _how dare_ you come back here, without them!” She roared at him, standing now at her full height, looming over the shocked Dwarf.

He took a step back, eyes wide. “I did try to bring them! I got them half way at least…”

“Half. Way.?” She spat threateningly. 

“They’re at a little dam across the plain, with The Beavers…” He trailed off, avoiding eye contact.

“Well. I suppose I should not have expected you to be able to do the most _simple_ of tasks.”

“It’s something!” He looked up at her indignantly. “And I walked all this way with no weapons or water!”

“And that is supposed to _impress me_ , son of Durin?” She took another menacing step forward, forcing him to take a step backwards, down the stairs.

“You could at least offer me some ale!”

“Well! It seems the prince feels he deserves a prize for all his _hard work_.” She gestured at the doorway, ushering Ginarrbrik closer and out of the shadows. “Our prince is thirsty.”

Ginarrbrik laughed mirthlessly, closing in on the younger Dwarf. “Time for your num-nums” He grabbed Kili by his shoulder and pushed him down the staircase, knife at his back. 

Kili walked out of the room, still in earshot of the Witch. 

“Maugrim? You know what to do.” She ordered icily.

He stumbled further down the corridor, hearing a pack of wolves howl in his wake.

 

 

\---

 

 

Bilbo hurried back into the dam, rubbing his frozen hands eagerly in front of the fire. “That’s quite enough walking out there for one night, I think.”

Beaver chuckled behind him, handing him a blanket to wrap around his shoulders. “It’s those bare feet you should be worrying about, lad.” 

The Hobbit looked down and yelped, his feet were turning a bright shade of blue. He scuffled closer to the fire, alternating between defrosting one foot at a time, jigging from side to side. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

Mrs Beaver padded over and handed him a cup of tea, tutting amusedly. “If only we had a little more time, I could crochet you some lovely warm socks for those feet.”

Bilbo coughed on his mouthful of tea, spluttering loudly. “It’s quite all right, Mrs Beaver, but thank you all the same.” 

“Why not, Bilbo? We could even knit you a large fuzzy hat to match! You’ll enchant all the lasses in Narnia!” Fili elbowed him cheekily, earning himself a sharp glare from Bilbo. 

“Only if I can knit you some flowery mittens, your Majesty.” He teased in return, bowing comically at the prince. Fili laughed heartily, slapping Bilbo a little too heavily on his back, making him spill his tea over his feet. “Perfect, now I’m wet _and_ frozen-”

“Enough!” Thorin barked, instantly halting Bilbo and Fili’s antics. He stormed forward, glaring down at them both. “Kili is missing, and you two are wasting time, fussing over _needlecraft_.”

Bilbo looked up at him incredulously. “Calm down, Thorin-”

“Lads, how about we put this on hold and start packing, yeah?” Beaver cut in, holding up an empty leather rucksack.

Thorin growled and walked forward, snatching the satchel out of his hand. “Where do you keep the bedrolls?” 

Beaver led him into another room, talking with him companionably, as Bilbo and Fili helped Mrs Beaver pack enough food and water for the journey.

“I think this waterskin has a leak-” Mrs Beaver placed a paw on Bilbo’s lips mid sentence, ears pricking up. She scampered up the stairs and listened at the door, gesturing for Fili and Bilbo to stay quiet.

“You can hear it too, love?” Beaver cautiously padded in the room, Thorin in his wake.

She turned and faced them, eyes wide. “It’s the wolves, they’re nearly here.”

Beaver spurred into action, barking orders at Thorin to grab the rest of the bags in the other room, the howling of wolves becoming louder in the distance. Bilbo grabbed all the items they’d gathered on the table, shoving them haphazardly into the bag at his feet.

“How long do we have?” He whispered urgently, filling his bag with brown-paper wrapped bread.

“Not long, dear. We need to get out of here now.” She replied, eyes wide in fear.

Thorin barged into the room, two bags in his arms. He threw a satchel at Fili, who immediately put it over his shoulders. “We need to go.” 

Badger ran in, pack already on. “Come on dear! I don’t fancy being the dogs dinner!”

“Yes, yes…” She shoved some waterskins in her bag, secured it and slung it over her shoulder.

Thorin looked around the room, ensuring everyone was prepared. “Beaver, where now?” 

“Follow me.” 

Beaver leapt into action, opening a trapdoor on the floor whilst Mrs Beaver ran about the dam, smothering all the lights. He grabbed the remaining torch and dived down, followed by Fili, and then Mrs Beaver.

Bilbo looked up at him, terrified. “You go, I’ll close the door.”

Thorin grabbed him by his collar and pushed him towards the trapdoor, and grabbed a large kitchen knife. “No, I’ll stay at the back, you stay safe.”

The howling was even closer, flooding the room. Bilbo looked around at the windows, now seeing claws scratch at the snowy glass. 

“Thorin-”

“I said go!”

Bilbo dived inside, crouched on all fours and ran ahead, seeing Beaver’s torchlight ahead in the earthy tunnel. He sped onwards, dodging the odd root and rock that got in his way.

“Thorin?”

“I’m here, Bilbo. Keep running.”

They turned a corner and ran straight into The Beavers and Fili, who were huddled together, waiting for them. Bilbo stilled, gesturing for them all to be silent. He turned around and looked behind Thorin, and down the passageway.

“They’re in the tunnel!”

Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s shoulders and pushed him ahead, spurring everyone back into action. They sprinted as fast as they could, Beaver’s torchlight leading the way. The sounds of barking and footsteps echoed behind them, urging them forward.

“Over here!” Beaver jumped up and pulled at a rope, revealing an exit. “Come on, up you all go!” He climbed up outside and waited there, helping Fili up and out.

Once all outside, Beaver grabbed a large barrel and rolled it in front of the entrance, Thorin joining him and adding a large stone above it to keep it in place.

  
Bilbo walked backwards and fell over, tripping on something in the snow. He looked down and gasped, it was a group of stone squirrels at his feet. He turned and looked around at their surroundings, covering his mouth.

They were surrounded by small houses, in a circle around a large tree, and all of the animals around were frozen in stone, cowering or screaming. 

Beaver walked over to one creature forlornly, resting an arm on a large Badger. “He was my best mate…” 

Thorin padded over, taking in the scene before him. “What happened here?”

“This is what happens to those who oppose the Witch” They all turned around swiftly, greeted by a smiling fox, who was sitting on a roof of one of the quaint houses. 

Beaver marched closer, front paws raised threateningly. “And what would you know, traitor!”

The fox tutted casually, pouncing gracefully down into the clearing, next to Bilbo. “I am no traitor, it’s just a family resemblance, I can assure you.” He looked around the clearing, fur standing on end as a wolf howled in the tunnel, now scratching desperately at the other end of the barrel. “We need to get you all to higher ground.”

Fili walked forward, crossing his arms. “It’s just a mere wolf pack, Thorin and I can take them.”

The fox laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head. “My dear Dwarf, what can two Dwarves and a large kitchen knife do against a large pack of unfed wolves?” 

Fili went to open his month and respond, but was silenced by Thorin stilling him with a hand on his shoulder.

Thorin strode closer, and stood on Bilbo’s other side. “What did you have in mind?”

 

 

\---

 

 

The wolves burst out of the tunnel, pushing the barrel aside. There was a large pack of them, all mangy, ribs showing under their unkempt fur. Maugrim padded towards the tree, where the Fox was pacing nervously; his tail swiping at the fresh snow.

He circled the Fox, his pack following and ensuring the orange creature could not escape. 

“Greetings, gents. Is there any way I can help you on this magical evening?” He asked cheekily, eyes darting around the clearing.

Maugrim barked at him, not in the mood for any games. “Do not play around, Fox. I know where you allegiance lies.”

The Fox laughed awkwardly, trying to muster all his confidence. “My dear Wolf, I have no idea-”

“Enough!” He barked, teeth bearing. “Where are the Durinsfolk?” 

“Durinsfolk?” He laughed again, shaking his head disparagingly. “I fear there are no _Durins_ around these parts, though, I’m sure you can find some _ducklings_ that the Queen hasn’t frozen-”

Maugrim growled menacingly, closing in. “-I said _no games_ , enemy to the Throne.”

The Fox looked up furtively, ensuring that Maugrim wasn’t looking, and checked that The Badgers and their quarry were still safe, up in the branches of the tree above.

He gulped, shaking his head again. “Like I said, no Durins here-” Suddenly, he let out a pained bark, for a wolf had closed its teeth around his middle, lifting him in the air.

Bilbo gasped sharply, and was instantly silenced by Thorin’s warm hand over his mouth. He looked up at the Dwarf who shook his head, and drew him in closer. Bilbo settled into Thorin’s grasp, and carefully looked down again, watching the scene below unfold. 

“Do not make me ask again, if you value your life. _Where are the fugitives_?” Maugrim’s fangs were inches away from the Fox’s face, spittle flying into his eyes, making him flinch.

He looked down defeatedly, whining quietly. The wolf holding him closed his jaws suddenly, making the Fox whimper loudly. “They… They went north.” He sighed loudly, his body going slack in the wolf’s grip. “Yes, north… I swear.”

“Release him.” The wolf let go of him, throwing him against the trunk of the tree. The Fox let out a pained whine, then went still. Maugrim chuckled menacingly, turning to face his pack. “Track the scent, we go north.”

The wolves howled eerily at the sky then started their chase, Maugrim taking the lead.

The clearing was silent, the howling wolves heard in the far distance. “That’s quite enough waiting, I think.” Bilbo slid out of Thorin’s grip and lowered himself carefully down the branches, landing softly in the snow next to the still Fox. He knelt down, petting the fox’s ear soothingly. “Can you stand?” The Fox let out a quiet groan, and shook his head.

Thorin jumped down behind him, startling Bilbo and making him yelp. The others dropped down into the snow around him, all watching the fox intently.

“We need to get him warm and tend to his injuries.” He looked up at Thorin. “Please take Fili and find some firewood, Mrs Beaver and I will look after him.” Thorin nodded and grabbed Fili’s arm, leading them over to the front of one of the houses, a stack of wood near the front door.

Mr Beaver padded around the clearing. “You deal with Fox over there, yeah? I’ll keep watch.”

Bilbo nodded over to him and petted Fox carefully, trying to soothe him as much as he could. Mrs Beaver knelt next to him, sliding the pack off her back. “Not to worry, dear. I’m sure it’s not too bad.” She rustled through the contents, retrieving a small bottle of lotion and some white fabric.

“Fox?” Bilbo said gently, running his hand down the side of his neck. He opened his eyes slowly, making Bilbo sigh in relief. “We’re just going to have a look, it may hurt a bit.” He nodded in response, eyes closing again.

Soon enough a fire was going, the Dwarves had respectfully moved all statue animals from the clearing to rest aside the small houses; and Thorin had created a circle of logs around the fire to sit on.

“Thorin, could I have some help, please?” Thorin looked up from the fire and walked over to Bilbo, who was still kneeling next to the injured Fox.

“What do you need?” He asked, placing a hand gently on Bilbo’s shoulder. The Hobbit was obviously distressed, fretting over the poor animal.

Bilbo smiled up at him softly, gesturing down to the dozing fox. “We need to lift him and get him close to the fire. I’ll go roll out my bedroll, could you carry him carefully and place him down?” Thorin nodded in response and kneeled on the other side of the fox, as Bilbo walked over to his pack and unrolled his bedding.

Thorin carefully slid his arms under the fox, who whined with the new movement. “Shh, not to worry.” He curled the fox into his arms, supporting his head with his shoulder. Fox’s breathing was heavy, Thorin’s brow furrowing at the realisation. He walked slowly towards the fire, ensuring Fox was disturbed as little as possible. 

“Carefully down here, Thorin.” Bilbo gestured towards his bedroll, smiling softly up at him. Thorin nodded and knelt down gently, wincing as the fox let out a pained yelp as he was laid down on the bedroll. The Dwarf petted him softly between the ears and whispered soothing Khuzdul, not noticing Bilbo looking over at him, his soft smile widening.

Thorin looked up and smiled embarrassedly, sitting back on his heels and removing his hand from the fox’s fur.

“I never pegged you as an animal lover, Thorin.”

He looked over at the fire, awkwardly running his fingers through his hair. “We used to have a few pugs, many years ago…” He looked down at the sleeping fox, brow furrowing. “I don’t enjoy seeing animals in pain...”

Mrs Beaver padded over, handing them both some bread, berries and water. “Oh stop your worrying, you two. I just gave Fox a little sleeping draught, he’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

Bilbo smiled up at her and took the food and water over to one of the logs, and sat down. He took a bite of the fruit and moaned happily, grinning over at Mrs Beaver who was now sitting on the bedding next to Fox. “This is really delicious, thank you.” She waved his compliment away, nodding graciously.

He wrapped his arms around himself, huddling closer to the fire. Footsteps closed in behind him, and Bilbo felt the added weight of another fur coat being draped around his shoulders. He looked up, met by the view of Thorin nodding down at him.

“I already have another pelt, and don’t feel the cold as much as you do.” He stepped over the log and sat heavily next to Bilbo, gazing forward into the fire.

Bilbo blushed, smelling the musky and metallic scent of Thorin surrounding him. “Thank you Thorin, really.” He chuckled. “I fear us Hobbits are just not as used to the cold as you Dwarves are.”

Thorin waved the compliment away. “Let’s just hope that this time you borrow my furs, you don’t disappear for two hours again.”

Bilbo choked on his mouthful of water, unprepared for the jest. Thorin patted him heavily on the back, smiling down at him. He didn’t remove his hand and returned to staring into the fire, not noticing Bilbo’s flushed cheeks. “I-I won’t be vanishing into a wardrobe, not to worry.”

The Dwarf laughed warmly at that, the arm around Bilbo tightening slightly.

 

 

\---

 

 

Beaver, who was sitting next to Fili and talking with him quietly, looked up and noticed the display of affection, elbowing the dwarf in his side. “Hey, so what’s going on with your uncle and the short chap?”

Fili looked up from his food and let out a soft bark of laughter. “Well I never thought I’d see the day. He finally got the _abban_ to do something.” He shook his head, smiling warmly. “Thorin was so focussed on Erebor for all those years, and now he can finally focus on something for himself.”

“Erebor?”

“Oh, back home.” He sighed wistfully. “The most beautiful place you have ever seen. Ceilings so high you can’t see the roof, rooms filled with mountains of gold…”

Beaver chuckled, patting Fili on the knee. “Sounds lovely, lad. No wonder he was so keen on it.”

Fili looked over to Thorin, who was now bending close to Bilbo, talking softly at his side. “And now, he might have the chance to share it with someone.”

 

 

\---

 

 

Bilbo pulled the fur coats closer around his shoulders, knees shaking slightly as he sat on the log. Since the fox had taken his bedroll, he had offered first watch, thinking that he would be tired enough once his watch was done, that he could fall asleep heavily on the log, too exhausted to care.

He stretched and stood, cracking his back satisfyingly. The camp was silent, the Beavers were curled up together on a bedroll, chests rising and falling softly in deep sleep. Fili and Thorin had parked bedrolls next to each other, Fili insisting that he was close to Fox, in case anything happened in the night. 

Bilbo padded silently over to the fire, adding more wood to the flames. He outreached his hands, rubbing them together keenly in the warmth. He heard Beaver turn over, his breath getting louder.

“I think it’s time you got some sleep, my lad.” 

Bilbo startled and looked over at the Beaver, who was now smiling up at him. “Oh, I can manage another hour, not to worry.”

Beaver shook his head and stood, cracking his back loudly. “Oof, I tells ‘ya. I ain’t as young as I look, that’s for sure.” He walked over to the fire, warming his paws next to Bilbo. “Really, I’ve got the watch. And Mrs Beaver has the watch after, so you don’t have to worry till morning.”

He sighed, dragging his hands over his face. “I suppose I could get some sleep, if you’re sure?”

The beaver chuckled in response, pushing him towards the logs near Thorin. “Yes, Bilbo. Go before I change my mind.”

He nodded gratefully, and settled back down on the log, lying awkwardly on his side. The rough wood dug into his hips uncomfortably, so he wriggled further up the log, using his arm as a cushion under his head. He closed his eyes and felt himself start to doze off, exhaustion overruling his discomfort.

A short cough brought him out of his daze, he opened his eyes, and was met with the sight of Thorin sitting up on his bedroll, hands on his hips.

“And what, exactly, do you think you’re doing, Master Hobbit?”

Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly. “Ah, well, Beaver said he would take over watch, so I suppose, I thought I could catch some sleep?” He sat up, arm supporting his weight as he lounged on his side, his legs outstretched.

Thorin chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “I mean, what are you doing lying on a log, Bilbo. I can’t imagine it being too comfortable?”

“Ah, right.” Bilbo smiled, running his free hand through his hair. “Fox has my bedding, which I don’t mind, he needs it more than me...”

The Dwarf cleared his throat. “If you are comfortable with the idea, you are most welcome to come and join me? There is more than enough room.”

Bilbo stared over at him, eyes wide. “I’m not so sure it’s appropriate for me to be sharing a bedroll with a _King_ , Thorin.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’m no King here, Bilbo… And besides, it won’t be the first time. When we lost most of our packs in Mirkwood, you had no qualms sleeping close.” He raised his eyebrow cheekily, offering Bilbo a small smile. 

“Yes, well, that was different…”

Thorin stood up promptly, pushed the furs off his shoulders, and walked towards Bilbo, hand outstretched. “It is not improper, and do not worry, I will not do anything… untoward.”

Bilbo blushed furiously, avoiding his eye. “Yes, well… I snore.”

He laughed heartily, pulling Bilbo up from his awkward sleeping position. “How many weeks did we share a camp in the wild! And I know you can’t be as loud as Bombur, so do not worry.” He tugged Bilbo by his hand, back over to his bedroll. “Here, you can lie between Fili and I, we’ll keep you warm.”

The Hobbit looked down at the inviting space, running out of reasons to say no. “Fine, fine. But if I keep you up, you must throw me out of bed and send me back to the logs.” 

Thorin smiled coyly down at him. “Not to worry, I’m not in the habit of throwing companions out of my bed in the early hours of the morning.” 

He looked up at him incredulously. “Thorin!” 

“I was just joking, calm down.” He kneeled down, pushing his and Fili’s bedrolls together. “Well?” Thorin gestured towards Fili’s back, raising an eyebrow at Bilbo.

“Fine, yes.” He settled down on his back next to Fili, trying to take up as little space as possible, pulling his furs over his front. Thorin sat next to him, pulling his own pelt over himself.

He looked down at Bilbo, coughing pointedly. “I fear this bedroll is not as big as you think.”

Bilbo blushed and tried to scoot closer to Fili, who was snoring loudly in his right ear. Thorin lay down and wriggled over, their shoulders brushing.

“Still not enough room, Bilbo…”

He sighed exasperatedly and turned on his side, facing Fili. He heard a chuckle from behind him, as he felt Thorin turn on his side as well, his chest pressed slightly to his back. Bilbo put his face in his hands, his blush warming them.

 _And how in Eru’s name am I supposed to sleep with a very-warm Thorin pressed at my back, hmm?_ He thought to himself disparagingly, releasing a shiver at the realisation that he was being near-spooned by a _King_.

He felt Thorin press closer into his back, making him release a quiet yelp into his hands. “Are you cold, Bilbo? You’re shaking like a leaf.” He whispered lowly in Bilbo’s ear.

 _Yes, because I can’t handle how amazing you smell and how warm you are, snuggled into my back!_ He mused to himself. “It’s fine, just a small shiver.” He replied, as convincingly as he could muster. 

Thorin laughed quietly, the air from it rustling the curls behind Bilbo’s sensitive ears, making him shudder. The Dwarf pulled his furs further, over Bilbo as well, and pressed in even closer. “Here, that should do it.”

Bilbo’s eyes were wide, he was frozen, his senses overloaded with Thorin’s heat and scent. He nodded quickly, humming confirmedly in response. He felt the hair at the back of his head flutter again, moved by Thorin chuckling.

“Night, Bilbo.”

“Night.”

 

 

\---

 

 

Thorin awoke slowly, and curled into a warm bundle at his chest, sighing contentedly. He couldn’t remember having such a good sleep in a while, and wondered why his nose was being tickled by something soft, smelling of roses. The Dwarf opened his eyes slowly, greeted by a mop of auburn curls. He froze, his breathing stilled, and he was suddenly very aware that he was cozied up to another. He felt the smaller body curl back into him, releasing a satisfied groan. His arm squeezed instinctively tighter around the Hobbit, and his eyes widened in horror.

He was spooning Bilbo.

His eyes darted around the clearing, noticing that nobody was in sight. At least that was a mercy, nobody to grin cheekily down at him and his current sleeping situation. He tried to remove his arm slowly from Bilbo’s waist, but at the movement the Hobbit wrapped his arms around Thorin’s forearm, and pulled him in closer.

Thorin needed to escape, but didn’t want to wake his cosy bedfellow. That was one awkward conversation he really wanted to avoid. He tried again to slide out of Bilbo’s grasp, but his hold on Thorin tightened again. He let out a sigh and relaxed back into Bilbo, accepting defeat.

 _This isn’t that bad, I suppose…_ He thought, listening to Bilbo’s deep breaths, birds singing in the background. Bilbo was so warm, and the fire was still going, so it could be much worse. He froze. _The fire was still going…_ meaning someone had tended to it recently. He groaned, eyes closing in embarrassment. At the sound, Bilbo stirred, and ground his backside closer to Thorin, shifting it side to side.

Rubbing right on an area that Thorin wished he had avoided.

 _“Mahal’s beard!”_ He muttered to himself, feeling an all-too-familiar warmth start to pool in the bottom of his stomach. Bilbo was not helping at all, in his sleep he was still rubbing side to side, trying to get closer to the warmth behind him. Thorin bit his lips, eyes crinkling in concentration, trying to focus and soften his slowly hardening cock.

He heard Bilbo groan in response, Thorin’s eyes shooting wide open. The grinding changed, turning from slow side-to-side motions to long, hard, upward strokes. Thorin gulped dryly, feeling Bilbo’s groin harden in response, his forearm resting on the Hobbit’s growing warmth. Bilbo’s breath deepened, getting increasingly ragged; bringing Thorin to the realisation that his own breathing had also heightened. The Hobbit’s nails were now digging into Thorin’s arm, as he used it to anchor himself as he rocked to and fro.

“Th-Thorin” He moaned breathlessly, and Thorin froze in response.

_Mahal’s beard, he’s having a sex dream about me!_

Thorin’s mind went into overdrive, as he remained still, Bilbo still grinding into his now fully hard erection. If he woke Bilbo now, the Hobbit would be absolutely mortified, and probably never look him in the eye again. Yet, if he tried to sneak off, he would have to slip his arm out of his tight grasp, and probably wake him anyways. He looked around the clearing desperately, trying to find a way out that would not ruin his chances with the Hobbit forever.

He stared into the back of Bilbo’s head, eyes widening.

_Ruin my chances? Since when do I have feelings for the Hobbit?_

Thorin tried to think clearly, his stimulated cock clouding his thoughts. Bilbo’s moaning had started increasing in volume, which was even more distracting.

“Shhh, it’s all right, Bilbo.” He whispered soothingly into his ear, earning a ragged breath in reply.

Bilbo continued his ministrations against Thorin’s groin, sighing contentedly, much quieter this time.

Thorin was running out of time. It had been far too long since his last _tumble_ with the same sex, and he felt his endurance waning.

He continued again for his search for a resolution, and sighed thankfully when he saw a long piece of smooth wood, just above his head, next to the fire. He unfolded his right arm from under his head, and reached upwards, the tips of his fingers only skimming the surface of the branch. Thorin groaned and stretched his spine and fingers, urgently flailing upwards to roll the log towards him. His quiet groan awakened something in Bilbo, whose movements became even slower and harder, his breath hitching in his throat. His grip on Thorin’s arm had increased as well, he was now fully grinding his cock against the Dwarf’s outstretched limb.

He was disastrously close.

With a burst of momentum, he rolled his shoulder and reached closer, muscles straining, and rolled the wood satisfyingly towards himself. He didn’t have long. 

Thorin grabbed the pelt off his shoulder slowly, avoiding waking the aroused Hobbit. He wrapped the furs around the branch, when sure that it was fastened properly, Thorin brought it around to the front of the gasping Hobbit.

As carefully as possible, Thorin started sliding the furred decoy down into the nook of Bilbo’s arm, moving an inch a time. Bilbo was increasing his pace, Thorin now sweating in anticipation. He pried the Hobbit’s arm open slowly and in a swift movement pushed the branch in place, removing his arm from Bilbo’s grip.

He sighed contentedly.

_Step two._

Thorin slowly pushed the furs off his back, around his side and bundled them at the Hobbits back, supported by the weight of the pelt. Once convinced it was enough for the eager Hobbit to grind against, he slowly rolled out of Bilbo’s reach, face first into snow.

It was exactly what he needed.

He breathed in the crisp air, calming his beating heart. He rolled over again and lay on his back, focussing on getting rid of his raging erection.

“Oh-oh Thorin!” Bilbo whispered urgently. Thorin sat up, wide eyed.

_Fuck, this was happening._

Thorin stood to his feet silently, searching for a way out, and noticed a branch full of birds above the Hobbit’s sleeping frame. Plan now in motion, Thorin crept out of the clearing away from Bilbo, and found a small rock. 

_This should do the trick._

He let the stone fly, which hit the target and caused all the birds to squawk in protest, flying off.

The noise alerted Bilbo and startled him out of sleep, making him sit up, eyes wide, searching upwards.

“Time to disappear.” Thorin whispered to himself, backing away and hiding behind one of the wooden houses. He stood there for a minute, breath haggard, back leaning against the wall. Thorin looked down, his erection still bulging obviously at the front of his trousers. _“Fuck!”_ He moaned to himself, needing to get rid of it as soon as possible.

He looked around noticing he was leaning against a doorframe. Thorin looked around cautiously, and when he was sure nobody was watching, slipped silently into the house. 

The house was empty, its curtains were all drawn. Thorin’s eyes adjusted in the dark, realising that he was in a home-brewery of some sort, barrels and bottles lining the walls. He walked over to a barrel and sat on it, leaning against the cool stone wall, legs stretched outwards.

He knew it was extremely inappropriate to do what he was about to do in a stranger’s home, but he felt he had no choice.

He _needed_ his release.

Thorin closed his eyes and sighed raggedly, undoing the laces of his trousers. He felt instant relief as his hard cock sprung free from his smallclothes, the previous pressure near unbearable. Thumbing the end of his cock slowly, he bit his lip and stifled a groan.

_He was so close._

Bilbo’s panting still all-too-fresh in his mind, Thorin spread his legs further and started pulling gently at his erection, pre-cum trickling down the side of his thumb. 

_Th-Thorin_

His thoughts turning to his own name on Bilbo’s lips, Thorin pulled harder at his cock; his hips now raising slightly from the barrel as his other arm slipped up his shirt and started playing with his left nipple, pulling and rolling it between his fingers. He bit harder on his lip to silence himself, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.

He bucked his hips harshly as he pinched his nipple hard, the warmth in his groin increasing and rising in his chest. Thorin’s breath was loud and rough, its tempo matching the strong strokes of his hand on his heavy erection. His hips left the barrel entirely, his weight balanced between his shoulders against the wall and his feet.

Thorin focused on his goal, and doubled the pace.

He rolled his hips upward, increasing the tempo even more, until he released a strangled cry, his free hand now covering his mouth. He slumped back on the barrel, his orgasm riding itself out in waves, his hips still bucking in staccato as he slowly pumped the tremors of his satisfaction away.

He was utterly spent. 

The afterglow of his orgasm was overwhelming, wrapping around his chest and calming him. He felt himself nearly melt into the barrel he was perched on, sighing contentedly.

Hopefully the others wouldn’t be back for a little while, he could grant himself this one private moment.

 

 

\---

 

 

Bilbo spun around, eyes searching the trees above. He was having such a _lovely_ dream, how dare those rude birds awaken him. Lying back down in the pool of furs, he let out a contented sigh.

“What was I dreaming about, again?” He closed his eyes and breathed in Thorin’s scent deeply.

Bilbo bolted upright, covering his newly discovered erection under his fur coat.

“By Eru, I was having a sex dream about _Thorin_!?” He moaned into his hands, utterly ashamed of himself. “This is so embarrassing, I haven’t had dreams like these since I was a fauntling.”

He looked around the clearing, his isolation blazingly apparent. “At least I didn’t have any spectators…” Bilbo looked down to his side, noticing the odd branch that had been tangled up with Thorin’s furs. “I really must have been tossing last night, if I got this all tangled…” He carefully pulled the furs off the log, ensuring it didn’t catch.

His erection now under control, Bilbo was able to decipher what in Middle Earth was going on.

 _The dreams must have been from being surrounded with Thorin’s scent, nothing more._ He mused, pulling Thorin’s pelt absentmindedly around his neck. Bilbo inhaled deeply, bringing the furs close to his face. _Curses, why does he have to smell so good!_

Painfully aware of how ridiculous he must have looked, Bilbo shook his head and stood up, pulling his own coat around himself. He looked around at the empty bedrolls and abandoned packs, trying to work out where everyone had disappeared to.

He padded over to the large tree, circling it slightly, and then noticed one of the houses’ chimney emitting a column of white smoke. Bilbo creeped closer, crouched slightly. He knocked on the door twice, awaiting response.

A giggle was heard from inside and Mrs Beaver opened the door, beaming up at him. “Good morning, lazy lumps! Never thought you and that grumpy Dwarf would ever wake up!” She ushered him inside the cosy kitchen where she was working on breakfast, Fox lounging lazily on a couch near the door. “Beaver and Fili have gone off to catch some fish, they should be back soon.” 

Bilbo shuffled near the stove, warming his hands at the fire. He looked out the front window and sighed, utterly relieved at the sight before him. The view across the clearing had been inhibited by the large tree, only the fire and left flank of the campsite could be seen, Thorin and his bedroll hidden by the tree’s trunk. If he had done anything untoward, he was safe. Hopefully. 

Mrs Beaver stood beside him. “It really is a lovely view, is it not?”

“It truly is, my dear.” He replied, smiling down at her.

She clapped her hands together in finality. ‘Well, since you’re awake and moving, you can help me with breakfast since that useless fox can’t help with anything.”

“Hey, I saved your furry hide, Mrs Beaver!” He howled dramatically from the couch, smiling broadly. 

His audience chuckled in response, they both smiled at him warmly at return.

“For which I will forever be grateful.” She replied, curtsying cheekily.

“Not as grateful as you’ll be with a full stomach from all these fish!” Beaver bellowed triumphantly in the doorway, a dozen fish tied to a stick over his back.

Fili popped his head in, beaming at them all. “Bilbo!” He strolled inside and patted him heavily on the back. “I’m surprised you’re awake! I thought you had gone into hibernation like a Great Bear.”

Bilbo poked him in the ribs, chuckling. “Well, if you hadn’t rolled back in the night and nearly suffocated me, maybe I would have had more sleep!”

He smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. Ori and Kili were whining the whole quest that I kept rolling into them as well.” His face fell. “…Kili.”

Mrs Beaver waddled over, holding his hand and patting it with her paw. “He’ll be alright, dear. Not to worry.” 

“Course he will! He’s no use to the Witch dead-”

“Mister Beaver!” She barked, glaring him down. “Not. Helping.”

He winced apologetically. “Sorry, Love. You know how it is, the rush from a good fishin’ trip.”

Bilbo put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine. We’ll get him back-”

The door burst open, distracting everyone from the small domestic row that was unfurling in the kitchen. Thorin loomed in, taking up the entire doorway with his imposing frame. “I hope I haven’t missed breakfast.” 

Mrs Beaver laughed good-naturedly, pulled him inside and closed the door behind him. It was a very amusing sight to behold, a burly dwarf being fussed over and led around by a cute, large beaver in a frilly apron. “Sit down, you. I’m sure Fox can jostle aside and make room for you on the couch.”

A small smile played around his face as the precious beaver pulled him by his hand over to the couch, her head not even reaching his collarbone. “My thanks.” He offered as he sunk into the couch, sighing contentedly.

Fili watched the scene unfold with keen eyes, not missing anything. He strolled over to his uncle’s side, leaning casually against the arm of the couch next to him. “What’s got you in such a good mood this morning, Uncle?” He inquired cheekily, not loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. The Beavers and Bilbo were busy scurrying about the kitchen area and Fox was napping; their conversation was essentially private.

Thorin grunted noncommittally in response, running his hand through his hair.

“Come on, Uncle. Something has you quite relaxed this morning.” He peered over to Bilbo, ensuring their conversation was indeed private. “Anything to do with your little _cuddle_ with the Hobbit in front of the fire last night?” 

He snarled up at his nephew. “ _That_ is really none of your concern.”

Fili chuckled, unmoved by the tenseness in Thorin’s voice. “It might be, if I’m to find myself soon with a new _Uncle_...” He grinned down at him. “Should I start calling him _Uncle Bilbo_ now?”

Thorin stood up swiftly, pressing his pointed finger warningly into Fili’s chest. “Don’t. You. Dare.” He threatened, between clenched teeth.

The rest of the room had fallen silent, Thorin’s tense frame seeming to engulf the room.

Bilbo looked between them, unsure what was unravelling. He paced over quietly, placing his hand tentatively on Thorin’s elbow. “I know we’re all stressed about finding Kili, but there’s no need to start channelling your anger this way, Thorin.”

Thorin melted in Bilbo’s touch, The Hobbit’s soft hand cupping his elbow gently. His mood improved almost immediately. “You’re right.” He sunk back into the couch, rubbing his face tiredly.

The Hobbit smiled down at him warmly. “We’ll sort this all out, Thorin.”

He looked up at Bilbo, finding himself craving his touch almost painfully. “I do hope so.”

Fili looked between the two, his smile beaming. Oh yes, something was _indeed_ unfurling there. “So, uh, do I want to know who’s home we’re cooking in?”

Beaver smiled sadly, hand sliding across the worn, green table. “Badger’s place…” He looked out the window, seeing the small gathering of stone animals outside the clearing. “He’s out there." 

“What happened?” Bilbo enquired softly.

“They were helping Tumnus.” Bilbo turned quickly, staring at the fox. “Yes, your friend Tumnus… Sadly, I did not get here on time.” He let out a small whine, as he moved himself on the couch to get a better view of the room.

“Are you alright, Fox? We are all in your debt, for what you did last night.”

He chuckled in response, shaking his head. “I have had better days, my King. I wish I could say their bark is worse than their bite.”

“ _My King?_ ” Bilbo said slowly, as if getting used to the turn of phrase.

“Yes, Bilbo. Never forget the power of The Prophecy.” He stood carefully, pawing the ground. “But I fear I cannot stay for breakfast, I must be off." 

Bilbo took a step closer, shaking his head. “No, you still need to heal!” 

“I thank you all for your kindness, but Aslan has asked me to rally his troops." 

“ _Aslan!_ ” The Beavers sighed wistfully in unison, smiling eagerly.

“What’s he like?” Mrs Beaver inquired excitedly, taking a step forward.

“Like everything we have ever heard or dreamed.” He turned towards Thorin, bowing his head. “We will glad to have you and your family by our side, as we rage war against the White Witch.”

Thorin sighed exasperatedly. “We are not planning on joining any wars, Master Fox. We have only just left one behind us, in Erebor.”

“What! But surely, King Thorin, The Prophecy!” Fox was taken aback, shaking his head. 

Beaver sighed loudly. “We can’t go to war without you all.”

Thorin stood, looking him in the eye.

 

“We just want Kili back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Lovelies!
> 
> SO YEAH. Smut happened. I wasn't planning on it, but then it sort of just...appeared.  
> First time writing Smut, hope it wasn't too awful!
> 
> And poor Fili, he just wants to stir some shit without being barked at by Thorin.
> 
> *abban: means stones, so I guess it loosely, in my head, is khuzdul colloquial for balls.
> 
> Yet again, this is my first fic ever, I am un-beta'd, so there may be errors. Whoops.  
> Comments are most welcome.
> 
> Useless Kili adventures ahead!  
> Berunien


End file.
